Adaptation
by Cyberwraith9
Summary: Life is change. Do you have what it takes to change with it?
1. A Cry in the Dark

_Disclaimer_

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

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**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

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**Prologue**:_ A Cry in the Dark_

The tide around the island broke as a mechanical giant rose from the crashing waves and staggered onto the beach. Its body gleamed wet in the sunlight. Seaweed clung to its broad shoulders and massive feet, dragging spiral patterns in the sand as the giant lurched beyond the waters' edge and fell to its knees. Its shoulders heaved with breath that never left the grille set below its broad, fearsome visor.

Crouched over, the creature still stood tall. Its body was composed of pristine armor molded into a shape that mimicked a human form, if such a human happened to possess the brawn of a gorilla. Light blue trim decorated the giant's edges and frilled its helmet-like head, which swiveled around to take in its surroundings.

The island itself stood abandoned. Its only structure occupied the center of the island, high above the beach on a bluff covered in red rock and scrub grass. The metal giant gazed up at the structure—a tower, perhaps the oddest ever built—and felt a twinge of nostalgia.

That bizarre building, designed to resemble a tremendous "T" that could be seen across the bay, had been the only home the giant had ever known. Once the tower had been a gleaming monument to justice. No longer. It sat at a slight angle, its windows jagged and gaping, its steel skeleton warped by explosive heat. Forgotten scaffolding wrapped around the base of the tower, unused. Repairs to the tower had been abandoned in favor of more important business.

The metal giant took one more tinny breath. Then it coiled against the wet sand and leapt. The cliff face whistled past its visor scowl as it jumped to the top of the bluffs and landed in one clumsy motion. It turned its stumble into a run that carried it toward the tower's base.

Absently, the giant reached for something at its waist. Alloy scraped against alloy as it grasped at nothing. The giant slowed. It shook its head with chagrin. Then it stopped, and lowered its head in concentration.

The intricate blue trim of its armor snapped open and separated, taking with it metal muscles that deconstructed further into base components. Circuitry, freshly exposed, slithered with interconnected pieces toward a glowing blue-white light emanating from within the giant's metal skin. The armored giant collapsed into its own back, allowing the girl inside it to fall to the ground. The light swallowed itself into the skin bared low on her back.

She was small, and terribly thin, as evident by the ribs jutting from her open-backed bodysuit. Her hair clung to her head like a greasy black cap, framing her pinched face. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes darted about as she checked and checked again her surroundings. When no hidden assailant struck her down, she again reached to her waist. This time, with no armor impeding her, she plucked a canary yellow communicator from the belt of her suit and snapped it open.

"Calling all Titans," she said hurriedly, resuming her run toward the Tower. "This is Tek. I'm at the Tower and I need help." She paused in thought, though not in step, and then said, "I guess I'm calling for other honorary Titans, too, since the real Titans…I mean, the regular Titans...

She reached the massive doors of the Tower. They had been left closed, but were damaged from the explosion that had torn the Titans' home asunder from the inside. Tek squeezed into a gap in the warped metal, keeping her communicator open and active as she rambled, "Let me try that again. I'm an honorary Titan too. Or, I was. See, I was living on the street when the Titans found me. Actually, it wasn't the Titans, it was this other group of heroes that found me. They're really nice. But they couldn't help me, so the Titans took me in. They said they could help me with my…problem."

Her skin tore on a sharp edge of the broken door as she squeezed through, leaving behind a scrap of blue and a splash of red. She hissed and clutched her arm, and ran into the cavernous entrance of the Tower. Char and debris littered the room, crunching underfoot, slowing her steps lest her feet skitter out from under her. She picked her way over the floor and to the hall, where the light of day could not reach.

Biting her lip at the inky darkness in the hall, she began patting down her belt with her free hand. Into the communicator, she continued, "It's not a bad problem. It's just that I lose control sometimes, and my armor—I have this armor that comes out of my back, see, and sometimes…

She snapped her communicator closed and rapped it against her forehead, crushing shut her eyes. "Get a grip, alley girl," she muttered to herself.

Her wandering hand found a small penlight in her suit's pockets. She snapped it on and aimed it into the pitch. More of the same charred floor and emptiness awaited her, but at least she could see it now. She flipped the communicator open again and said, "Let me start over. Calling all Titans! …and honorary Titans…like me. This is an emergency. I'm in the Tower, and I'm being chased by bad guys. Lots of bad guys. And I'm the last Titan left."

The door to the stairwell was stuck. She slammed her spindly shoulder against it once, twice, and then unstuck it open on the third try. Panting, she leaned against the door to catch her breath and shone her light up the rickety stairs, dreading the thought of ascending them to Ops.

"Well," she admitted between breaths, "I'm not really the _last_-last Titan. See, a while back, Robin got super powers. It was really weird. I wasn't here for that part. This gross space bug came down in a pod, from space, and then the bug exploded, and this smaller gross bug burrowed into Robin's chest, sort of the reverse of that movie with that alien. I can't remember the title right now. It was pretty good, but really scary…

She trailed off again, and lightly thumped her head against the door. "Focus," she told herself through gritted teeth.

Then she took to the stairs, gingerly testing each buckled step before she risked putting her full weight on it. "Anyway, Robin got these powers. He could fly, and shoot red blasts, or red bolts, it kinda changed, depending. At for a while, it was okay. He used his powers to chase after Slade—that's this really bad guy with a weird mask and one eye. He tried to take over the city with robots. You probably saw that on the news."

Tek stopped halfway to the top. Between talking, climbing, and panicking, her lungs could not keep up. She leaned heavily on her knees and gasped.

"Slade was super-bad, even though I never met him. He kept sending people and robots to mess with the Tower. I guess they got in because Terra—she was a Titan too, but she was also a bad guy, because she was helping Slade, so I guess she wasn't a Titan, except she helped save me and voted me on the team…" With another breath, Tek forced herself back on topic, "Terra and Slade blew up the Tower using lots of robots. He thought he blew us up, too, but we survived in this underground bunker that Robin built.

With heavy steps and a light head, she resumed her climb. The stairwell echoed with her footsteps. She tried to keep her voice steady as she continued to the communicator, "We stopped Slade and his robots, but not before they trashed Jump City. That's when Robin went sort of crazy. But I wasn't there for that part, either. I was having…problems.

Finally, she reached the top level of the Tower. Her destination laid just a few shadowy halls away. Armed with her penlight and communicator, she pressed ahead, timing her footsteps to her chest-rattling heartbeat. "Beast Boy said that Robin felt bad about letting the city get destroyed by Slade, so he became this crazy vigilante, the Red Robin. Maybe you saw that on the news, too. He got so bad that the other Titans had to stop him. They fought. It went…not good."

She paused outside a set of double doors, but not for lack of breath. Her hand trembled as she reached for the doors' seam. Then she stopped.

"They stopped Robin, but it was really bad. Starfire was hurt bad. She still isn't awake. And Robin ran away. Nobody knows where he is. And Cyborg was torn to pieces. Those nice doctors at S.T.A.R. Labs are building him a new body, but he's still in little pieces and these gross chunks, although I didn't tell him the chunks look gross, because that's his body…his body-body, not his machine-body. Raven and Beast Boy were supposed to get out of the hospital today, but they aren't answering, and my communicator can't find them. I hope they're okay," Tek said.

Ops' doors loomed before her, growing larger in her eyes by the second. She knew she didn't even deserve to walk through them anymore. She didn't deserve to be a Titan, honorary or otherwise. Raven had told her as much. But there was no one left.

She lifted the communicator to her mouth and stared at the doors. Worthy or not, she had no choice. Innocent lives were on the line. "Please," she said, "If anyone's listening, you have to help. There are no more Teen Titans, and Jump City is in real danger. I can't stop them alone. I don't even really know who they are. I'm in trouble, and I don't know who else to call. So if anybody gets this, hurry to Jump City. Look for 'Tek' on your locator beacons.

"Um…that's it. Hope to meet you soon," she told the dead airways.

Then Tek shut her communicator, grasped the doors of Ops, and pushed them apart. It took all her strength to fight the grinding gears in the walls, but she managed to open the doors enough to squeeze through, losing more skin and suit in the process.

Cheery sunlight poured through the empty window frames at the far side of Ops. More char carpeted the floors, crunching under her hesitant footfalls. She recognized the scorched shapes that remained, remembering what they had been before the explosion: that blackened lump facing the window-screen had been their couch; the scorched block to her left had been the kitchen area; on either side, consoles and lockers sat open and eviscerated, where once they had housed the Titans' vast resources.

And before her, a stranger dressed in flowing white threw sharp, gleaming metal at her face.

She screamed.

**To Be Continued**

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And thus begins a new chapter for my Teen Titans. For those of you who are new: welcome! And for those of you who aren't quite as new: welcome back! It's the beginning of a new story, which is really a continuation of my older story, but with new twists, a new theme, and brand new excitement to explore.

I should note for you newcomers that this is technically an AU story. My continuity follows the Teen Titans animated series up until the Season Two episode, "Winner Take All," from which it diverges wildly. The continuity also liberally takes from both the DC Animated Universe and DC comics. I've streamlined it quite a bit, so you should pick it up without problem. The biggest thing to realize is that here, Robin isn't Dick Grayson, but instead Tim Drake, who I maintain is the superior Robin. This, of course, is only my opinion, but being that it's my story, Tim is here to stay. Keep your eyes peeled for Dick Grayson and other DC favorites to appear as the story progresses.

I have a lot of thanks to give, so I might as well get them out of the way now. First off, to all my returning readers, for whom this story continues, and to whom I owe quite a bit. You guys may not be the reason I started writing, but in bleaker moments, you're the ones who encourage me to _keep_ writing, and that means more than you'll ever know. A quick list of my favorite authors, to whom I give thanks for further inspiration: Peter David, Brian Michael Bendis, Alan Moore, Robert Heinlein, Edgar Allen Poe, and Jim Butcher, just to name a few. And finally, once again, I lend thanks to Legend Maker, an ff-dot-net alumnus whose Titan stories inspired me to try my hand at it, and whose chaptering system I have "borrowed," with both apologies and gratitude.

Want to learn more about Tek and the strange events she's recounting? Check out the story that came previously, "Teen Titans: Avatar." Or you could stay tuned and pick it up. Or you could do both. I sure hope you do both. Definitely the "staying tuned" part. Because, as I like to say:

The best is yet to come.


	2. New Order: Titans' End

_Disclaimer_

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit and purely for entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, not to be reproduced without prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

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_The night prior to Tek's rambling distress call…_

The lights were back on in Jump City. After one long blackout, power had been restored, lines had been restrung, all for the purpose of bringing light back to the night. Debris no longer choked the streets. The legacy of Slade's attack, his broken robotic soldiers, were gone. Renewal and reconstruction sutured the city's scars. Hope had returned.

She stopped beneath one of the new street lights, looking up at its incandescent bulb. The comforting glow had drawn people back to the night. No longer did they huddle in their tenements, ruled by fear. They walked past her on the sidewalk, unafraid.

A smirk ghosted across her ashen features. She hid it in the hood of her light jacket, pretending to feel the late fall Californian chill. All it took to make these people feel better was a sickly yellow light. All it took to terrify them was a little darkness.

With a chuckle, she continued on her way. She traipsed through shuffling throngs, past construction sites, through dark alleys and illuminated thoroughfares, indifferent to it all. Her destination lay on a secluded street in a section of town that had known dilapidation long before any super-criminal attack.

She stopped at an old building whose original purpose had been lost to time. Perhaps it had been an office building, or a hostel. She neither knew nor cared, and circled the building to find a cement stairwell leading down to a heavy steel door. She skipped down the steps and rapped lightly on the door.

A slot in the door slid aside, revealing a piggish scowl that pierced her hood. "This is a private facility," a gruff voice said through the slot.

Her grin widened. "And I'm a private entrepreneur," she responded.

The slot closed. The door clanked and swung inward. She pushed her hood back, revealing long locks of electric pink and eyes to match, and entered. Warm air tinged with alcohol and smoke chased the chill away.

Any "private entrepreneur" worth anything in Jump City knew about The Hideout. It was an old bomb shelter given new life, where anyone with cash and discretion could come for a drink. Its pool tables stood unused at the moment—it was still too early for the regular crowd. But she recognized a few faces that littered the booths on her way to the bar.

Her squeaking stool drew an old man behind the counter. No one knew the bartender's true name, if he worked for or owned The Hideout, or anything real about him. His bushy beard and rumpled clothes had earned him the nickname "Scruffy," and his way with a cocktail had earned him a healthy amount of respect from Jump City's villains.

A vodka tonic slid from his hand even before she finished settling onto the stool. Scruffy nodded at her, and asked, "Why so early, Jinx? Have enough good fortune to pay your tab?"

Jinx smiled. "You aren't that lucky," she told him. "Neither am I, actually. There's no money in this burg anymore. Why else would I be here this early to meet some kid who says he has a job?"

"You too?"

The young man's voice made Jinx turn. She hadn't noticed him before, and for good reason. He possessed average features beneath a crop of average brown hair, and wore an old canvas trench coat buttoned up to the collar. He smiled blandly at Jinx, who sneered back. "This isn't happy hour at your neighborhood Applebee's. You gotta be bad to be in here, Baby Face."

Scruffy melted away as the boy slid several stools down to sit next to Jinx. He had no drink, which didn't stop Jinx from sipping hers. "I can be pretty bad," he said. "Sometimes I go three whole days without flossing. And besides, I'm betting we're here for the same reason."

"That's not a great selling point for you sitting this close to me." She harrumphed. "Some no-name clown puts out word of a job. Doesn't say what or where, just when, and that it pays."

"Pay isn't what it used to be in this town," the young man agreed.

The thought drove her to the bottom of her glass. She came back with a stronger sneer. "Only reason I'm here," she said. Her head dipped as she added, "It's pathetic."

"Why's that?"

Cocktail courage bubbled in her stomach. She tsk'ed at the rookie next to her and said, "I was a pretty big name around here. Before ol' One Eye sent his robots in to wreck everything, I was like a rising star. I stood eye to eye with the Titans, and they blinked first."

He smirked. "That is impressive."

"That is exactly why this," she said, waving her hand to encompass them both, "is pathetic. Someone like me teaming up with a doofus in a coat like that? It's a real sign of the times. This city's gone to hell. I do one job, just enough for some traveling cash, and then I'm out."

The young man watched her stare into her empty glass. As low as her expression hung, his remained a pleasant smile. He lifted two fingers. Immediately, two drinks appeared in front of them without question or pause. Scruffy nodded at the young man's thanks before gracefully disappearing. "That's not the smartest thing to admit to a potential employer," he told Jinx.

Jinx stared at him. Then she shook her head and sipped her tonic. "See, this is exactly what I mean. Sneakily scoping me out? That's just the kind of juvenile, novice crap that gets rookies' faces melted."

"I certainly wouldn't want to incur the hex of the famous Jinx," the young man teased.

The water in his glass swirled. He placed the glass on the bar, and then glanced at Jinx, whose eyes flashed. A small vortex spun in the glass, splashing over the side and onto the counter. Then the water crackled and froze, cementing the vortex into conical ice.

She brushed her long hair back, hiding the sweat that had beaded at her brow. "I've been practicing," she said casually. "Hexes will be the least of your worries. Thanks for the drink."

Jinx lifted her hood and rose from her stool under the smug scrutiny of the young man. Just as she knew he would, he waited until she started for the door before saying, "You aren't interested in the job?"

"You need a little more oomph under your belt before you rate a sit-down with me. Come back when you've actually got something," she called, waving him off as though he were a fly.

"I've got Mikron. Baran. Selinda." Each name made her slow until she stopped halfway across the bar and turned. Arms folded, the young man beamed at her and rose from his stool. "See, you aren't the first one here, Jinx. You're the last one on my list," he said.

The fact that he had convinced Gizmo, Mammoth, and Shimmer did impress her, even if she wouldn't show it. She lowered her hood and said, "So, what? Are you putting together a new Fearsome Five? You should go visit Psimon in the prison hospital they've got him in. I hear his new face is almost as ugly as his old one."

He shook his head. "Psimon's out. I've got another candidate who can 'see' the big picture a little better. Only the young and strong for my team."

"And what does your 'team' do?"

"You look at this city like a corpse. But it isn't, Jinx. It's a newborn, waiting to be taken and molded. Ruled, even. And all it will take is the right mind, and a little effort. Isn't having your own city worth a little effort?" he asked.

Jinx rolled her eyes. "Do you know how many yahoos have said what you're saying? And every last one of them wound up caught or crunched by the Teen Titans. You might as well wander down to the nearest precinct and cuff yourself, and save that baby face of yours a beating."

And then he said something that pierced her cynicism. "Pinky, what do you think we're taking care of first?"

She paused at the door, her head bowed in thought. An old debt weighed on her heart. She had longed to collect on that debt for a good, long while. Her hand rested on the doorknob. It was cold, just like outside. It was cold, and she had nowhere else to go. Her eyes dropped to her feet as she turned, and asked, "You got a name?"

The trench coat lay pooled around his boots. He wore black armor crossed with two streaks of red. A tattered cape hung from his shoulders. He just finished pulling on his cowl, which bore a white skull mask over his face.

In a reverberating growl, he said, "Call me Red X."

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**Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

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**New Order**: _Titans' End_

A heavy sigh rattled Raven's chest. She rested a clipboard in her lap and smoothed her hospital gown. Her wheelchair squeaked as she moved it closer to the observation window of the lab and said, "You're being difficult about this."

On the other side of the window, the mechanical components of Cyborg's body occupied every table and rack in the clean room. S.T.A.R. Labs' finest technicians labored in their white clean suits to salvage those components of him that still worked.

In the center of the lab, a cylindrical tank held Cyborg's organic parts in a bath of green nutrient gel. A smaller, similar tank sat on a table near the remains of his chest. His halved face lay dormant in the second tank, stripped of its cybernetics. Thick cables held his disembodied head in place by the base of his neck.

Raven had seen her share of strange things. Conversing with her friend in his base components could easily compete as the strangest among those things. He remained conscious and aware, though sensory-deprived, while the scientists dismantled his damaged body. "_I'm not being difficult,_" Cyborg's head remained dormant while his voice said through the wall speaker next to the window. "_I'm just not liking our choices so far. So who's next?_"

With another sigh, Raven picked up the clipboard, flipped its pages, and continued, "There are a couple of adventurers operating out of Colorado. They run a website, helping anybody who asks. Mostly natural disaster work, but I think they've handled a few small fish in the villain pool. The redhead doesn't have any powers, but the blond sidekick supposedly has mystical monkey—"

"_Pass,_" Cyborg's voice buzzed.

"Okay," she drawled. "Rumors of a 'ghost boy' in some place called Amity—"

"_Pass._"

"There's a skinny ex-wrestler kid in New York. He can stick to walls, and his wrists shoot—"

"_Pass._"

Raven massaged the bridge of her nose. Several choice words bubbled in her lips, which she choked back with extreme effort. With irreverent calm, she said, "If you keep rejecting every possibility based on a few words, we'll never find anyone."

She could practically feel his annoyance wafting out the speaker. "_Raven, none of these guys have what it takes. They aren't…_"

"Aren't what?" she asked. She stared past the speaker at his dormant head in the gel. "Victor, in case you didn't notice, we are rapidly running out of the few options we have left."

There was a pause. Then the speaker crackled, "_They aren't Titans, Raven._"

"You don't know them."

"_I know Titans. We are. They're not._" He paused again, and added, "_And I wish you wouldn't sit right outside the lab. I hate it when you watch them. You could at least use the holo-projector so it looks like you're talking to a face._"

Raven rolled her eyes. But she moved away from the window, turning her wheelchair so its back rested beneath the speaker. She stared down the empty hallway of S.T.A.R. Labs and wondered if maze rats felt as she did now. "The projector is still in Starfire's room."

That was all she needed to say on the subject. Cyborg let her stew in silence as he thought of what he could say. Thinking was all he could do anymore. He was tired of thinking. He was tired, period.

"_Is there anyone else?_" he asked at last.

Clipboard pages rustled under her thumb. "That's the list for now. I'll keep looking," said Raven.

Raw emotion screeched against Raven's empathic senses. Even before he rounded the corner down the hall, Raven guessed the snaggletooth grin on Beast Boy's face. She closed her third ear against the tempest behind his bright eyes, and eyed his approach. His hospital gown swished with a bounce in his step.

"There you are," he cooed, completely missing Raven's sour pucker. "Always the last place I look, huh? Hey, Vic!"

"_Hey yourself, Salad Head._"

"C'mon, Raven," Beast Boy sang, getting behind her wheelchair with a little work. "Doc Brown'll see us now. I think today's the day. Sweet, huh? We'll catch you later, Vic. Don't go anywhere."

"_Ha, ha,_" Cyborg called back. The speaker in the wall clicked off.

Raven shrank from Beast Boy's hands as he took her wheelchair down the hall. Then, as an afterthought, she grabbed the wheels and jerked them to a halt. Before Beast Boy could question her, she turned in her seat and looked around him, back at the clean room window. "Victor?" she called.

The speaker clicked on again. "_Yeah, Raven?_"

"I don't remember any Titans in the beginning. I remember a loner, an outcast, a refugee, a monster, and a half-wit. Keep that in mind. We'll see you later," she told him. Then she pushed the chair's wheels, urging Beast Boy to continue on.

His breath tickled the back of her neck as he bent down and asked, "What was that about?"

Raven irritably bent forward, away from him. "Nothing," she said.

"Well, I'm not sure Robin would like it if he knew you were calling him 'half-wit,'" he joked.

She scowled and hunched. "Maybe if he was here, that would mean something," she snapped, and regretted it immediately.

"Yeah," he muttered, dipping against the wheelchair until it squeaked. But then he smiled again and quickened their pace. "But hey, he'll be back. I bet Robin's just brooding, or roosting, or whatever it is he does when he locks himself in his room."

Raven rubbed her temples while Beast Boy pushed her chair down the hall. She toyed with the notion of teleporting herself to Doctor Brown's office, but then thought better of it. Shenanigans like that would only keep her in that damnable chair longer.

They ended, to Raven's surprise, at a medical examination room instead of the office. Raven's extremities shivered at the thought of yet another physical when she saw Doctor Katherine Brown waiting outside. The tall, elegant woman tapped an impatient rhythm against the floor with this season's latest in executive footwear. Her brow arched at Raven's unpleasant expression. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked.

The suspicious tone weighted heavily in Raven's scowl. She knew the doctor didn't trust half as much in magical healing trances as she did in medical science. Nevertheless, the former had healed Raven into the picture of health, while the latter still struggled to explain what she could do. As such, Brown had poked and prodded Raven until the two women had come to a compromise. "I just trust you'll hold up your end of the bargain," she said.

"That depends," Brown said. "Have you been resting? Drinking fluids? Avoiding undue stress?" At Raven's nod to each question, Brown's frown increased. She glanced at Beast Boy, unconvinced. "Has she?" she asked him.

He nodded. "Just like she promised. When she wasn't in bed, she was in the chair. I'd know, too. I've been with her practically the whole week."

"He has," Raven said darkly.

Brown deflated with an imperious sigh. "Very well. Since there's nothing medically wrong with you—so far as I can tell—and you both seem fine, I suppose we can discharge you."

Raven stood as soon as "discharge" left Brown's mouth. Her eyes flared. The wheelchair behind her became impossibly black and cold with the touch of her soul-self. Beast Boy jumped back as the chair crumpled, splintering and rending until it became a misshapen ball on the floor. The arcane light faded from Raven's eyes as she returned Brown's challenging stare.

"That was unnecessary," Brown told Raven.

"And petty," the sorceress added. "Can I go now?"

This time, Brown's sigh resonated with the death of her patience. "Come in. I have some clothes for you, as well as a surprise."

She led them inside the examination room. The paper-covered table, anatomy charts, and jars of medical bric-a-brac were nothing new to either teenager. Neither was the pale, sickly girl sitting on the table, but they were surprised to find her there. She hunched over herself in a blue bodysuit that was black with filth. Her dark hair drooped greasily. Her bloodshot eyes wavered at Beast Boy and Raven.

"Tek!" cried Beast Boy. He pulled her from the table with a hug, nearly dislodging the IV needle sunk into her arm. Spindly though his limbs were, Beast Boy lifted Tek as though she weighed nothing. Judging by the ribs he could count through her suit, "nothing" wasn't far off. "Ohmygosh, are you okay? We've been calling you forever, and we've been stuck here, worried about you, and they finally found you, how are you!"

The IV tube saved Raven from having to meet Tek's gaze. "Is she okay?" she asked Brown.

"'m fine," Tek mumbled, slinking out of Beast Boy's hug.

Brown checked the mobile rig that fed clear saline into Tek's arm. "She's more or less all right. She just looked dehydrated. A hot shower and a hotter meal certainly wouldn't hurt. We'll be happy to provide both," she told Tek, resting a hand on the frail girl's shoulder. Tek smiled wearily, until Brown added, "It's the least we can do after everything you Titans have done for us."

The other teens shared a look. Beast Boy sobered, and asked Tek, "Have you, um, seen Cyborg yet? He wants to talk to you."

Clucking her tongue, Brown handed Beast Boy and Raven each a stack of clothes. Blue jeans and sweatshirts would serve in place of their uniforms. To Raven's chagrin, she noticed that the outfits matched one another. "She can see him when she's ready. I think a little rest is in order first."

Raven's unpleasant look didn't escape Tek. It was hard to miss. "No," she said, forcibly invigorating her voice. "No, if Cyborg needs to see me, I can go now."

"I don't…" Brown trailed off as she looked to each teen. Her exasperation grew with each firm expression it came across, and finally burst in a tossing of her hands. "Fine. I'm done arguing with you lot. What do I know, anyway? I've only got three doctorates. But no…" Her muttering followed her out the door, which she shut with a pointed slam, leaving Tek to squirm beneath her teammates' attention.

Fortunately for Tek, Raven seemed more interested in shucking her hospital gown. She poured her ethereal self into the stack of clothes in her hands. They became a featureless black mass, which then melted over her arms and engulfed her body. When the blackness faded away, Raven wore unflattering jeans and a dull, gray sweatshirt with a S.T.A.R. Labs logo. Her gown lay neatly folded underfoot.

Beast Boy dumped his clothes on the floor. He then shrank out of his gown as a mouse, whose twitching whiskers nosed into the empty leg of the jeans. The pile of clothes expanded when Beast Boy morphed back into an elfin human. He pulled the backward hood from his face and proceeded to turn his sweatshirt right-side-'round. "So, are you really okay?" Beast Boy asked Tek in a conspiratorial tone.

A monster roared in Tek's thoughts. It was the same monster she had felt crawling in her skin since the moment she had awoke in a dumpster with no memory. It was the monster that made her attack friend and foe alike, like some feral beast. It had driven her to needles to numb herself and banish her monster. Only now, needles no longer kept her monster away.

"I'm fine," she told him again, and added an unconvincing, "really."

"Well, good," said Beast Boy, rubbing the back of his neck with a too-wide smile. "So, uh, give Vic our love, and just relax when you…I mean, I hope you…uh, we'll see you later," he finished lamely.

Raven eyed Tek's arms, where her sleeves had been torn away. The small, purpling bruises in the crook of Tek's elbow disappeared beneath her embarrassed hand as Raven uttered, "Goodbye," and followed Beast Boy's hasty retreat from the room.

Out in the hall, the mismatched, matching pair bid Doctor Brown farewell, and then walked toward the exit in ill-fitting sneakers. It was all Raven could do not to tear down the sterile halls as fast as her legs would carry her. Beast Boy's friendly voice nearly drove her to sprint as he said, "Man, it'll be good to finally get out of this place. Where should we go?"

Raven gritted her teeth. "Back to the Tower," she said in a tight voice.

Completely oblivious to her scowl, he said, "What's the rush? We can't do much without Vic, and he's still in pieces. Why don't we get something to eat, or go to the mall, or something?"

She could hardly look at him. "I think a little privacy is in order," she said.

Beast Boy laughed. "I hear that. After all that rubber-gloving and turn-your-head-and-coughing, we could use some time off. How about a movie? Or we could go to that creepy…uh, 'indie' coffee place you like. Sky's the limit!"

"No," she uttered, shutting her eyes and rubbing her temples. "I need to meditate."

His grin broadened and his voice sweetened. "C'mon, Raven. Let's live a little!"

They reached the secured doors of the Labs and pushed through into the first daylight either of them had seen in a week. Raven steadied herself with a breath. As she prepared to explain to Beast Boy exactly why she could not stand to be anywhere near him one second longer, a blinding flash of light tore them both out of existence.

* * *

Tek stood at Starfire's bedside in absolute silence. The pip and gasp of machinery surrounding her bed said everything Tek could think to say anyway. She watched the proud alien warrior struggle to breathe with the help of a tube down her throat. Skin that had once shone with golden vitality was now sickly and orange, and pierced with tubes that fed in and out of her.

The lab technicians had left as much of Starfire exposed as they could to soak up the warm, incandescent sun lamp mounted in the ceiling. Faux sunlight bathed her from toe to top as if to recharge her. Her bruises and cuts had begun to fade, melding into the rest of her comatose body.

"What happened? Did Robin do this?" Tek asked.

A table at the bedside held a compact hologram projector, which broadcasted Cyborg's face into the air. The hologram was crude, but it gave the illusion that Cyborg was watching over Starfire, and not disassembled in another room. If… When Starfire awoke, Cyborg wanted a friendly face to be the first she saw.

"_Yeah. Robin did most of this,_" the Cyborg face said, wirelessly connected to the important parts of his brain. "_When we couldn't stop his alien-powered rampage, Kory hit him with everything she had. The doctors say she used up all her…everything._"

"And Robin?" whispered Tek.

"_Long gone. Raven healed him after Kory blasted the alien out of his chest. He ran away after that. Nobody's seen him since._"

Tek's chin fell to her chest. She rubbed her arm and bit her lip. Her eyes swam. She shut them hard, refusing to shame herself or Starfire further. "Will she wake up?" she asked.

"_We hope so._"

One tear bested her eyelids, tickling through the caked grime on her cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Vic. If only I'd been there…"

"_I'm glad you weren't,_" he said. Then, after a short pause, he began, "_Tek, we need to talk about your future._"

His tone said everything Tek had been afraid of since Slade's attack on the city, when her monster had finally gotten the better of her. "Vic…Cyborg, I know I haven't been there lately, but I don't—"

"_You have some serious issues, Tek,_" Cyborg said. His hologram remained expressionless, but his voice grew firm. "_I don't know what's going on in your head, but I do know what's been going into your arm. It was a problem I had to ignore until we took care of Robin, and I'm sorry about that. But now, something needs to change._"

Her tears won, and spilled over her face. "I know I've messed up a lot, but you can't just throw me out! Please, Vic!"

Cyborg said, "_You had to see this coming, Tek. Half the time, you're stoned outta your head on tranqs. The other half, you're going crazy and blasting apart the scenery. I was hoping we could figure out something to help you, but…_" He trailed off, sounding ashamed. "_Tek, I don't know what else to do. I don't think there's anything I can do right now, except make sure you get the help you need._"

"No!"

"_Doctor?_" Cyborg called.

The door opened for Doctor Brown, who led in a handsome woman dressed in a bright business suit. Brown quickly bowed out, leaving the cheery businesswoman to greet Tek as though she were meeting an enthusiastic child. "Hello, there!" the businesswoman said, her almond eyes crinkling with a smile.

Tek backed away, feeling her monster surge and snarl at the newcomer. "W-who are you?" she asked, swiping her tears with the back of her hand. Her legs bumped against Starfire's bed, cutting off all avenues of retreat.

"_This is Gloria Xang,_" Cyborg said. "_She's a social worker who's worked with the Streetbeat. She knows some people that can help you._"

The girl in her swelled, overpowering even her monster with sheer panic. She fell to her knees, clutching the bed for support, and cried, "I don't wanna leave! You guys are my…Vic, you can't just…! I'm a Titan!"

"_Tek,_" Cyborg said sharply. When her sniveling quelled, his voice softened. "_Kid, look around. Look at us. There are no more Titans. For God's sake, look at yourself. You need to stop this. Please._"

"I don't need help!" Tek wailed. "I mean, I do, but not like this! Vic, please don't—" Tek sniffed and looked at the track marks dotting her arm. Then she looked up, unable to avoid Gloria's patient smile. "I don't…I don't want it to end like this," she whined.

"I agree," Gloria interjected, shocking Tek into silence.

Cyborg's voice scowled, since his holographic face could not. "_Excuse me?_"

The social worker approached Tek with a tissue in hand, pulled from where, Tek hadn't seen. She offered it to Tek, not forcing, not expectant, only hopeful. As Tek took the tissue, Gloria said to Cyborg's floating face, "Mister…er, Cyborg, it's obvious that being a Titan is important to her. As you told me, it's all she's ever been. Isn't there something she can do? A last…let's call it a 'mission' that she can perform? I think we'd all like to see her leave on a good note."

The word "leave" twisted Tek's innards all through Cyborg's contemplative silence. Wheels turned behind his hologrammatic face. Then he said, "_All right. There's something in Ops that we could maybe use. I think it might have survived the blast that took out the Tower. If it's still there, we definitely need to get it._"

Gloria clapped her hands. "Marvelous," she exclaimed. Resting a gentle hand at Tek's bare back, she asked, "Where is it? How will we find it?"

Tek slumped in misery, half-listening to Cyborg's instructions. What did it matter, if this was her last, pathetic "mission?" She didn't want to leave on a high note. She didn't want to leave at all.

* * *

"—and so the arrangement has been working rather well. The children at Sanctuary have been making the transition to foster care as smoothly as we could expect. It isn't perfect, but what is?" Gloria said. She glanced to the side, and then back at the road as she guided her car through the heavy construction of Jump City toward the harbor.

Tek's slump had continued from Starfire's bedside to the inside of Gloria's car without change. She leaned against the passenger window, leaving smudges wherever her head turned to watch anything that wasn't her insufferable social worker.

Frowning, Gloria glanced again. "They still talk about you, you know. The Streetbeat. I think they're a little hurt that you never visit them. Maybe once you're settled in…?"

Memories of the ragtag team that had first found her passed out on the street flitted across Tek's mind. Then her thoughts returned to the miserable present. "Nobody'll want me," Tek muttered. "Nobody wants me."

Gloria waited a moment before speaking. She collected her thoughts, and then said, "I know you're hurt. You have every right to be. You've got no home, and you're dealing with more things than any kid ever should have to. Like that magic armor of yours."

"My armor's not magic," Tek muttered.

"Right, sorry. What I'm trying to say is, things are going to get better. Things always get better, I promise. Why, a month from now, you might not even recognize yourself."

Tek thought of her needles, her violent past, and her burnt-out shell of a house to which this obnoxiously upbeat woman was taking her. The beast inside her yowled, making her clench her fists until her nails ran red with blood. "I like myself," she lied.

The woman sighed. "Tech," she began.

"Tek," her lump of a passenger growled.

Gloria smiled graciously. "Tek," she corrected herself. "It's certainly a unique name."

Tek rolled further, putting as much of her back to Gloria as her seatbelt would allow. "Beast Boy gave it to me. I don't remember my real name."

"Why not pick a new name?" Gloria suggested. "Something you like. Something fresh to go along with your new start?"

_I like Tek,_ she grumped in her head. Her monster growled in agreement. Tek clamped her eyes and tried to shut them both out.

Their car climbed an overpass on the highway. A man with flags and an orange vest waved them into a coned-off section separated by a concrete barrier. Once she'd corrected their course, Gloria remarked, "I've always thought 'Jennifer' was a pretty name."

An explosion punched the bottom of the car, reaching up around its sides with fingers of flame. The car lurched into the air. Drivers around them screeched, honked, and swerved as Gloria's car flipped end over end. The world around Tek blurred into a swirl and a deafening scream. With a jolt, the car landed on its roof, crumpling inward. Metal shrieked and glass shattered around her.

Then everything stopped.

The seatbelt cut into Tek's lap and chest as she dangled upside down. One eye cracked, peering past her arms wrapped around her head. Her ears were worthless with ringing. Crooked asphalt lurked beyond the remains of the windshield, which littered the ground and the crushed car above her. Aside from a few cuts and a bruise in the shape of her seatbelt, she felt relatively whole. Gasping, she looked over to Gloria. She stopped breathing.

Gloria's body poked from the pinched innards of the car. They had landed atop the concrete barrier separating finished road from that under construction. The barrier had collapsed the driver's side completely. Red pulp dribbled from the twisted grip of the metal. Gloria's eye bulged blankly through a gap in the wreck.

Tek's chest contracted, desperate for breath she could not draw. She choked and scrambled, trying to escape the mess that had been a human being only seconds ago. Everything about her felt like a singular bruise. Her head swam and her ears buzzed. Her hands fumbled with the seatbelt until it released with a snap, dropping her on her head. Heedless of the jagged glass, Tek crawled out of the crooked car through its windshield. Only once she'd left could she breathe again.

"Help!" she screamed between hyperventilating heaves. She crawled on her hands and knees over rough pavement. Blood blinded her from a cut in her forehead. "Someone please help me!"

The ground in front of her trembled. She wiped her eyes and looked up, and up, and up, to see a face pulled from her nightmares. An impossibly tall man loomed over her in black and gold armor. His coppery hair hung wild from his shoulders and neatly from his chin. Murder glinted in his eye as he grinned, and said, "Damn. You got the wrong one, Gizmo."

A smaller boy arose from behind the first on thick, spidery stalks connected to his back. The little boy wore a cruel smile and a green jumpsuit, and wielded an oversized weapon at Tek. "Just means we get to have some fun, Mammoth," Gizmo spat at the wounded girl.

Bestial rage shook Tek from the inside out. She lost herself in a roar, and leapt for Mammoth's throat, ready to tear him open with her bare teeth. A flash of force punched her side, knocking her from Mammoth, who hadn't lifted a finger to stop her. Tek tumbled onto all fours and crouched, ready to kill, ready to hurt, ready to rip, and saw another in her growing list of attackers.

He was small, but not as small as Gizmo, and certainly less imposing. A mechanical rig wrapped around his head, prominently enhancing a single eye over his face. He touched a gloved finger to the ocular rig, changing the eye's lens from white to green. "Boss said not to screw around," he reminded the other two in a high-pitched voice.

Beastly Tek crouched and circled for higher ground, making Mammoth scoff. "Get bent, See-More," he told the boy with the mechanical eye. "Exxy isn't even here. Go kiss ass somewhere else."

Tek saw a shadow dart over her head to land before Gizmo and Mammoth. The new figure swept his short cape back and faced Tek with featureless eyes set in a skull mask. "He's here now," the masked, armored, fearsome figure said in a reverberating voice.

Wide fear spread in Gizmo's lenses. He staggered back on his mechanical stalks, and said, "Hey, Red X. Good to see ya! We got this crud-muncher, no problem!"

Red X eyed the growling girl coiled on the ground. "Let's make sure," he said.

A scarlet cross flew from his fingertips. Tek yowled and leapt as the cross struck where she had been and turned the pavement into a crater with a thunderous blast. Heat scorched the air in her wake. She bounced to rest a dozen feet away.

The blast had momentarily confused the monster in her, allowing her terror-stricken thoughts to surface. Her features scrunched with concentration that opened a portal of blue-white light in her back. Technology crawled from the portal, swallowing it and Tek in one smooth motion. When she stood, she towered over Red X in white armor trimmed with blue. A glowering visor hid her fearful face.

Red X tilted his head in examination of the mechanical giant that had supplanted his prey. He humphed. "So that's her power. Interesting." He stood his ground. So did Tek. Their hidden eyes met unknowingly, his curious, hers petrified. Then, in a bored tone, X asked, "Gentlemen? Why is she still standing?"

Bellowing, Mammoth charged first, his fists swinging from above his head to hammer Tek into the ground. Tek caught his blow with a cry and bent, trembling under the pressure of his fists. "I've been looking forward to this, Robo-Chickie. Let's finish what we started last time," Mammoth said, fogging her visor with foul breath.

A clang of horrific implications echoed from Tek's armored shin as she brought it between Mammoth's legs. His eyes bugged and his strength vanished as he stumbled back, clutching his groin. Curses flew from his mouth like bees swarming from a hive while he tilted and fell.

Tek stood quickly, and then leapt to avoid a sizzling green bolt from See-More's eye. Panicked, she leapt too high, and hung in the air, unable to change her course. Gizmo drew a bead on her. His gun belched fire that struck her crossed arms and knocked her a city block away. As she flew, she heard Gizmo's fading shout. Then she pinwheeled her arms and landed hard, digging furrows into the new highway. She stumbled and fell, planting handprints into the street.

_Bad_, she thought, gasping. _Bad, bad, bad. Okay, alley girl, get a grip. You've got the Fearsome Four after you, and they're out for blood. They already killed Gloria. They killed Gloria. They killed her. They killed her! They're gonna kill me!_

Something knocked on her helmet, interrupting her silent episode. She looked up and froze. Two slender girls with lean, baleful smiles loomed above her. One was pale, with thick, coppery hair, and leather straps in lieu of clothes. The other was paler, ashen, her pink braid falling behind her gothic corset.

"Looky here, Jinx," the leather-bound girl lilted. "Sometimes what you want really does just fall right outta the sky."

"It's like magic, Shimmer," Jinx said. Pink chaos crackled betwixt her fingertips.

Tek rolled. The space behind her shook and drew tight as Shimmer transmuted the air into lead, which Jinx promptly smashed with a hex. Hot shrapnel peppered Tek on her way to her feet. She swung blind, and her fist collided with a rock wall Jinx pulled from the very ground. Then the ashen witch thrust out her palm. The rock wall smashed into Tek, knocking her off the highway overpass and into the streets.

Masonry crumbled from the office building off which Tek bounced. She landed two inches below the sidewalk, kicking up a spray of concrete and sending pedestrians running for cover. Her body rattled inside the supportive armor interior. Distant screams reached her ears through the snarl inside her head.

Metal scraped the ground noisily as she rose from the crater. She groaned through the grille over her mouth and watched six shapes fly from the overpass. "So, what is this?" she asked with fully falsified confidence. "The Fearsome Six? That's original."

"Bravado in the face of certain doom? How boring," Red X yawned as he landed in front of his team.

"Sorry," Tek said.

Her hulking forearms blossomed with twin barrels each, which she leveled at the line of villains. The barrels released a staccato howl as plasma rivulets poured forth, scattering Red X and his team. Tek ran back and sprayed white-hot fire behind her, hissing in sympathy at the screams of frightened, straggling pedestrians still fleeing the scene. She had to move the fight before someone got hurt.

Gizmo ducked her plasma fire and tossed a disc at her feet. The disc sprouted long, slender steel tentacles that snared her legs. "Eat my La Blue Bomb, mecha-face!" he cried, and drew another disc.

Pavement rang against Tek's chest. She skidded into a row of cars, struggling with the tangle around her legs. _Gotta get out,_ she told herself. _Gotta get help. Gotta get back to S.T.A.R. Labs…_ Her thoughts trailed off as she belly-crawled beneath a parked SUV, scraping its undercarriage as she flipped onto her back. _…where they'll find Cyborg and rip him apart…even more!_

Spidery feet crunched next to the SUV. Tek heard Gizmo's cackle before his gun's buildup drowned it out. "Game over, loser!" he squealed.

Tek shoved hard. The SUV rocketed from her hands, catching Gizmo unawares. His scream ended when the SUV caved around him, trapping him in twisted metal with a four-star safety rating. They tumbled high over a parking garage and disappeared, crashing with a distant crunch.

The tentacles around her legs broke with a sharp kick. "Right," Tek gasped to herself. "New plan. Find Raven and Gar—"

Fire engulfed her chest. Tek staggered against the stream and looked for its source. Jinx's smirk peered over the torrent, which flamed from her palm. The witch brought her other hand in and doubled the torrent. The flames turned blue and blew Tek off her feet.

The building wall behind her cracked with impact. She sweated, and felt the suit suck her skin dry to keep her eyes clear. Then the ground trembled with pounding footsteps, and she looked up in time to see Mammoth charging again. His fists bent her in two and broke her through the wall. She tumbled back into an under-construction lobby, whose work crew scattered at the brick spray.

Mammoth refused her a chance to even get up. His boot gonged her helmet in a kick that knocked her into the high ceiling. She thudded, fell, and then bounced through a stack of two-by-fours that splintered against her alloy skin. Dizzily, she felt her armor creak at the arms, and looked back to see Mammoth holding her at bay. When she looked around again, Shimmer approached the pair with a lazy swagger, with See-More behind her.

"Go on, Shimmy," See-More squeaked. "Turn that tin can into goo!"

Tek saw Shimmer's hands wrap around the sides of her helmet. She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for her armor to be turned into acid, or molten slag, or whatever deadly substance the pale exhibitionist could conjure. She held her breath, waiting. A moment later, she emptied her burning lungs and opened her eyes. Far from triumphant, the villain outside her visor looked confused.

Shimmer flexed her fingers against Tek's helmet. "Something's wrong," she said. "I can't change it. It's like it can—"

Tek's foot shot to Shimmer's chest and shoved her hard into See-More. The pair crashed together and struck the far wall. With a grunt, Tek burst free from Mammoth's grip and swung around with a haymaker that unseated him from the ground. His head plowed through the glass entryway still being installed. He landed in a cement mixer parked by the curb outside.

With the damage already done, Tek felt better about picking a new wall and crashing through. Drywall broke like paper, studs snapped like reeds, as she plowed through three more rooms. She burst through the final wall in a shower of red brick. "Okay," she breathed, "Now I just gotta—"

Red crosses sunk into the sidewalk between her feet. She felt an explosion hammer the armor between her legs, and was airborne once more. Her spiraling trip ended in the roof of a sporty coup, which shuddered as her weight bent it in half. A car alarm wailed beneath her while she sat up.

"You're far wilier than I'd have thought," Red X told her. He advanced on her car seat with Jinx at his side. She wore the smirk that his mask hid as he said, "I don't suppose you'd consider a job with us?"

Tek couldn't tell if her groan came from her armor, her chest, or the mutilated car atop which she sat. But she pushed to her feet, and said, "I'm not a murderer."

With a tilt of his head, Red X purred, "Are you sure?"

The question spun Tek's mind like a top.

Jinx lunged forward, gesturing to a fire hydrant down the block. The hydrant burst. With a wave of her arms, Jinx bent the spray of water into a river in the air that swept Tek off the coup. Tek splashed and skidded down the street until the water lost its pressure. A fine mist drizzled her visor when she pulled it from the pavement.

"Sorry, Baby Face," Jinx said sidelong to Red X as she sauntered alongside her hovering river. "These Titan types stick hard. Besides, I know the real deal beneath the metal. She's the biggest loser of the bunch."

Tek scooted back from the approaching pair. Behind them, Mammoth limped ahead of the other lagging three, rejoining to make the team complete. All six villains spread out across the street. They marched slowly on Tek, glowering as one.

With a flick, Red X's gauntlets sprouted jagged blades, which he crossed before him into his namesake. He peered between the blades, and said, "Too bad. The Titans don't rule in this town anymore."

"We do," Shimmer shot.

Crab-crawling, Tek panicked at the advancing line. The monster in her thoughts howled to be let loose. She knew the moment it charged the villains, they would cut her to ribbons, and so she reined her monster with a desperate thought. _Gotta get away. I need something. A distraction. Anything!_

Without warning, the blue trim of her armor flared white, flooding the sunny street with a blinding presence. X and his crew staggered, shielding their eye, while Tek watched with astonishment through her polarized visor. _That's new_, she thought, tapping the luminous trim.

Tek seized the opportunity by gathering her legs beneath her. Whispering a prayer, she jumped as hard as she could, and sailed into the air. Uncontrollable flight carried her in an arc over ten city blocks. She tumbled and screamed while the wind whistled around her. Then gyroscopes in her armor pulled her legs back beneath her. She landed hard, crunching the pavement and terrifying more pedestrians who had seen nothing of the fight until now.

Cars swerved around her. People stared and pointed, jabbering in excited tones as the meteoric hero who crouched and panted in the middle of the street. Half a mile behind her, Tek knew the villainous pack would already be in hot pursuit. She needed to get away, and more importantly, she needed to lead them out of populated areas.

A digital compass appeared in her visor, pointing her west, where she saw a derelict 'T' tower sitting in the bay. It felt like hours ago that Cyborg had given her one last assignment, to go to the Tower and retrieve something of importance from Ops. Now, it seemed, she would go there for a number of different reasons. Six different, murderous, unrelenting reasons, all of which thirsted for Titan blood. She wondered if the irony of her dismissal would make Red X and his gang laugh, or simply make her end more painful.

_I don't think I can make that jump_, she thought glumly of the bay separating Titans Tower from the shore. She began to run, clanking noisily as she wove through traffic at well above the posted speed limit. _Hope I figure something out before I get there. This hunk of metal can't swim, and it'd suck to run underwater. Would I even survive that?_

* * *

Red X shook his eyes clear of dancing spots in time to see Tek sailing over a row of buildings. He heard Mammoth swear and start to run. With an upturned hand, he stopped his sinister six from pursuing her. "Wait," he commanded.

"Wait? Are you crazy? She's getting away!" See-More cried. He shrank beneath X's withering glare, and added, "Unless that's what you want…?"

A giant palm swept sniveling See-More aside. Mammoth rumbled toe to toe with Red X, leaning down to plant his face in the white skull mask. "No way. No way are we letting a Titan get away. Screw waiting!" he bellowed.

With a stoic glare, X said, "Would you like to be in charge?"

"Why not?" Mammoth snorted.

"Hit me."

Mammoth leaned back, confused. "What?" he huffed. "Are you kidding me?"

"Hit me," Red X insisted. "Beat me up, and you're in ch—"

Mammoth needed no further convincing. He swung for X's head, but struck empty air. X leapt and danced up the giant's arm. He slapped his hand over Mammoth's nose. Scarlet bands snaked around Mammoth's head, forming an "x" across his face. As X landed nimbly, the scarlet bands began to contract, crushing Mammoth's skull. The great brute screamed and clawed at the bands to no avail.

Turning to the rest, X asked calmly, "Can we still track her communicator?"

Gizmo lost his thoughts in Mammoth's screaming panic. Then See-More elbowed him, and he stammered, "Yeah, sure. Robo-girl's signal is still the only Titan crud-munching communicator in the city." His ocular lenses flashed while he scanned the airwaves, making sure he was correct.

"Good," Red X said with a nod. "Let the girl go to ground. She'll think she's lost us, and be off her guard. Better yet, she might lead us to the real Titans. So spread out and follow her at a distance. Keep in contact, and don't attack until I say so."

He tapped the "x" on the back of his gauntlet. The bands across Mammoth's face broke. Red markings remained in Mammoth's skin, already bruising into a brand. Shimmer tried to help him up, but he waved her off. His glare tried to cut Red X in half without effect.

"Remember," Red X told them with cheery reverberation, "we're one do-gooder away from owning this city. Stick with me, do as I say, and this place will be ours in a matter of weeks."

**To Be Continued**


	3. Diary of a Mad Black Demon

_Dear diary,_

_No, that's stupid. I'm not calling this a diary. Diaries are for little girls in pink, frilly dresses who play with dolls, and have tea parties, and will one day grow up to be well-adjusted. I'm none of those things. Let's try this again._

_Journal,_

_No. Just no. You need to trek across unknown lands with a native guide, pack mules, diseases for indigenous peoples, and a sextant before you can keep a journal. Either that, or you need a newspaper in a city where the suffixes "times," "chronicle," and "bugle" are already taken._

_This is stupid. I'm starting to regret ever getting you._

_I'm writing in you because I need to make sense of what happened. Everything is changing so quickly, and I can't get a handle on what my life—our lives—have become. "Our" meaning the few people I have left in my life. Not you. You're a book. I'm writing in you because I need perspective. I need to take stock._

_Okay. Let's start from the beginning. I spent four days in the hospital after closing the blast crater that was Red Robin's chest. You probably read about him, and Slade's attack on Jump City, in the newspaper. The spell transferred his pain into me, which put my body into shock. Robin, in his overwhelming gratitude, ran away before I ever woke up._

_Did I choose wrong?_

_It was another week before the doctors would let me go. The whole week, sitting in a wheelchair or lying in a bed, I had nothing to do but think about the friend I hadn't chosen. I tried meditating on the quandary. I write "tried" because a certain niggling detail wouldn't give me a moment's peace while we were stuck there. If I'd known what was about to happen, maybe I would have tried to be nicer to him. Then again, if I could see into the future, I would never have let him become…_

_This is getting me nowhere. I'd better start being specific._

_

* * *

__We were just walking out of S.T.A.R. Labs, having been discharged moments ago, and having said goodbye to Tek, the last of Robin's albatrosses hanging around our collective neck. The doors were just a moment's walk away, shining with the first real daylight I had seen in a week. I was looking forward to a little breathing room and fresh air, to say the least. Even the daylight seemed inviting compared to the fluorescents buzzing overhead._

_It would have been uplifting if Beast Boy hadn't been walking next to me as physically close as possible without climbing on and demanding a piggyback ride. He talked like we were going on vacation. "Man," he said with sickening cheer, "it'll be good to finally get out of this place. Where should we go?"_

_You have to understand something about Beast Boy. He's insufferable. He feels. All. The. Time. Whereas most people regulate their feelings, controlling them and thus their reactions, Beast Boy does not. His emotions are undiluted, like an infant only beginning to understand the difference between "happy" and "sad," except with a much broader range of possibilities. Joyous, or depressed, or irritated, or angry, or moody, or anything—his feelings are always turned up to "full." This isn't a problem for the majority of people, but for an empath, it's a guaranteed headache._

_I gritted my teeth as his simple question dumped emotion all over my psyche. After two weeks of that, I was ready for a break. "Back to the Tower," I told him tersely._

_He smiled that same smile he had been touting all week. It made me want to run for the exit. "What's the rush? We can't do much without Vic, and he's still in pieces. Why don't we get something to eat, or go to the mall, or something?" he asked._

_The empathic backlash had gotten worse in the last few weeks, if you can believe it. Instead of just spewing his feelings everywhere, it was like they were escaping in these little bursts, as though he was trying to hold everything back. Try to imagine a fire hose turned directly on your brain with simultaneously the coldest and hottest water you've ever felt. It scours everything inside of you, leaving it raw and scraped, and then clings to you, soaks through you, chills you and burns you all at the same time. It was a wonder I can even remember it enough to write it down here._

_"I think a little privacy is in order," I said, hinting with all the subtlety I had left._

_He laughed without an ounce of real humor. His gait drifted closer to mine. I wanted to run, to slip between worlds and port away. "I hear that," he said, missing the point entirely. "After all that rubber-gloving and turn-your-head-and-coughing, we could use some time off. How about a movie? Or we could go to that creepy…uh, 'indie' coffee place you like. Sky's the limit!"_

_I rubbed my temples, wondering if my migraine would at least pay rent if it planned on staying so long. "I need to meditate," I told him._

_His poorly bottled emotions grew louder—dear Azar, they grew __**louder**__—as he smiled that stupid smile again. My barriers cracked under the strain. Fleeting feelings wisped through, which my father's distant influence devoured and regurgitated into my soul as pure rage. As my vision flashed red, I heard Beast Boy insist, "C'mon, Raven. Let's live a little!"_

_I staggered through the door of the Labs. Sunlight poured over me, helping me suppress my demon half. A deep breath calmed the rage tightening my chest. I concentrated, and my barriers became whole again, sealing their cracks. But Beast Boy was right behind me, carrying with him his pressurized emotional spray._

_This wasn't working. I needed to meditate in the worst way. I needed quiet, or things would become very bad in short order. Beast Boy felt lonely. I could appreciate that. But enough, as they say, was enough._

_"Beast Boy," I began._

_Right then, space and time twisted around us in a flash of light. First we were, and then we weren't. It felt like something had grabbed my stomach and dragged it through a hole the size of a dime, and the rest of my body followed out of courtesy._

_I fell through pure light, which I couldn't see because my eyes were somewhere else. I fell for either a second or a hundred million years. Then, just as suddenly, I found time and space again, as well as myself, which was mercifully intact._

_My surroundings had changed entirely. A second (or a hundred million years) ago, I had been staring at S.T.A.R. Labs sprawling parking lot. Now, an expanse of green trees wove together as far as I could see, and spread a canopy of colorful leaves above me. The air smelled sweet, and felt sweltering and heavy, making me sweat almost the instant I arrived. Rotting leaves carpeted the ground with every color I could imagine between crisscrossing roots the size of busses. Something in the distant treetops crowed._

_The emotional foghorn behind me made me feel Beast Boy before I turned and saw him. He wasn't sweating a drop, which irritated me a little. He crouched low, scraping his fingers to the ground as he circled the small clearing we had arrived in. Mounting panic joined the foghorn. "Where are we? Some kind of jungle?" he asked._

_Before I could sarcasm a proper reply, Beast Boy got tackled by a dark shape from the underbrush. He squirmed beneath the curves of a girl dressed in black and silver, with long, dark hair and burnished gold skin. She held a glowing lavender bolt in her palm just inches from Beast Boy's nose, and snarled, "Why did you kidnap me?"_

_He recognized her an instant before I did. "Blackfire?" he gasped with her hand around his throat. "Dude, what are you talking about? What's going on?"_

_"Don't play games with me, Snot-Boy!" she snarled, and lowered her blackbolt._

_The incantation flew from my lips: "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!" I pushed my soul into the fallen leaves around them. Blackened leaves mummified Blackfire and tossed her across the small clearing. She struck a tree, cracking its green trunk, and then burst from the leaves. My wayward soul trickled back to me through the ether. I gathered it in my palms, ready to knock her all through the forest._

_Lucky for her, Beast Boy stood and bounded between us, holding out his hands to stop us both. "Will you two cool it?" he shouted._

_Blackfire paused, glaring at us. Then something clicked behind her predatory eyes. She relaxed, and lowered her shout into an arrogant purr. "Oh. It's you two. Koriand'r's friends."_

_I pulled my soul back, but kept it ready near the surface. "Blackfire," I greeted her frostily. "From the looks of things, I'm guessing you're as lost as we are."_

_She rolled her eyes and leaned back on the cracked trunk. Suddenly she cared about looking cool. "No one could be as lost as you Earthlings," she said in a bored tone. "But yes, I have no idea where I am or how I got here. Someone must have caught me in a trans-dimensional tunnel, from the feel of it."_

_I nodded. It made sense. But Beast Boy scratched his head, and said, "You guys wanna translate that?"_

_He grew up with the Doom Patrol. He was Cyborg's best friend for two years. There's no way he can be this clueless about meta-science and still call himself a "super hero.". I dumbed it down as much as I could: "Someone grabbed us and pulled us outside of the universe for a second. We could be anywhere, in any time period."_

_"Not anywhere good," Beast Boy muttered, and eyed Blackfire with distaste. I couldn't disagree._

_Then his ears twitched, and he looked to the edge of the clearing. I felt it a second later: a presence approaching through the trees. Fronds blackened and crumbled for a tall figure with red, rock-like skin. Veins of reddish white heat ran through his naked body. A perpetual flame flickered atop his head. _

_When the flaming creature saw us, his ember eyes widened, and his glowing hands rose. "Easy," he said. Heat shimmered from his mouth when he spoke. "Don't shoot!"_

_Looking down, I saw my hands filled with roiling soul. Blackfire held bolts at the ready, and Beast Boy's skin buzzed like he could barely contain the zoo inside of him. I guess we were a frightening sight to run into if you were lost. Extinguishing my hands, I relaxed my posture and approached him. "You're not here by choice either," I guessed._

_The flame-hair danced as he shook his head. "Not my first choice in vacation spots. My name's Celv'n. I just got here a few clicks ago." He hugged himself, shivering. "Why would anyone drag me somewhere so cold?"_

_I didn't sense anything but genuine confusion from him. Of course, the foghorn walking up behind me might have thrown me off a little. "I'm Beast Boy. This is Raven, and that's Blackfire," my foghorn said._

_Blackfire still had her bolts cradled. She snuffed them when she saw Celv'n shivering. "Great. More dead weight. Why don't you three wander out and see if this jungle has predators?" she said smarmily._

_More leaves rustled. This time we held ourselves in check to see who came out of the forest. It wasn't hard to spot the first one: he stood almost twice as tall as the rest of us, with bright red skin stretched over some impressive muscle. Four thick arms tensed at his sides. Four yellow eyes narrowed at the sight of us. "More shorties?" he rumbled._

_Some kind of amphibian creature scampered out from behind the red giant. He looked like he would have been more at home in the deepest parts of the ocean, far from light and air. Glazed white eyes flickered over the clearing. He opened his needle-toothed mouth and gasped, "Strangers?"_

_Like before, posturing happened, names were exchanged, and we all agreed that we had no idea where we were or why we had been forced there. Tetramanus, the red giant, and his friend, Bellafin, came from a world I'd never heard of, a world that had never heard of Earth. Celv'n was likewise clueless about us, and hailed from a planet that didn't have a solid crust above its magma. He looked the most lost of us all. Only icy Blackfire seemed unconcerned, maybe even annoyed, at the cosmic kidnapping._

_But we didn't have to wait long for answers. Moments after we traded stories, the air crackled and flashed. By the time we could see again, a row of twenty-something new creatures stood at the clearing's edge. Large and slight, fat and frail, insectoid and reptilian, no two creatures were alike. The only thing I did know for certain was that none of them were from Earth, and that was no comfort._

_Then one of them stepped forward. This one I recognized. He looked like a transition between man and ape, with thick gray fur all over his body. Intelligent eyes darted between us as his yellowing fangs split in a grin. "Welcome, champions!" he greeted us._

_Beast Boy said what I was thinking. "It's the Master of Games!"_

"_Not this yahoo again," Tetramanus grunted. _

_I suppose Earth wasn't the only place the Master had tried his Tournament of Heroes. The boys had told their tale of fighting in his little games. Not being idiots, Starfire and I had rallied the other girls in his "Tournament of Heroines" to force him to send us home about thirty seconds after he'd kidnapped us. It looked like the Master was back to his old tricks._

_But it was so much worse than that._

_Celv'n stepped forward. His flames grew brighter, his veins glowed hotter, and his voice rose. "Listen up, meat sack," he shouted. "Nobody here is interested in fighting for your hokey prizes. So take your freak show of spectators and get out of here!"_

"_And send us home!" Beast Boy thought to add as he stepped next to Celv'n._

"_Yeah, that too!" Celv'n shouted, spitting brimstone in his excitement._

_The Master of Games spread his arms entreatingly. I sensed from him a malevolent glee that chilled me to the bone, sweltering heat notwithstanding. We hadn't been accidental choices of his new game, I knew. This was personal. "You misunderstand me, young heroes. This time, there is no tournament. You won't be fighting at all."_

_Bloodlust simmered in Blackfire's soul, and leaked from her eyes in lavender wisps. "Don't count on that, fuzzy," she muttered. Loathe though I was to agree, I echoed the sentiment._

"_Behind me," the Master said with a gesture, "stand the greatest hunters in the universe. These gentlemen, and ladies, and assorted other genders, dedicate their time and their exorbitant funds to besting the most dangerous game known to biped. And they have honored me with the task of arranging the greatest hunt ever conceived._

_Our little group of kidnappees fell silent. I could feel their collective despair settling over me like a thick fog. Except for Beast Boy, who remained the pressurized spray of emotions he had been all along. "I don't get it," he said loudly._

_The alien hunters behind the Master produced an array of weaponry the likes of which I'd never seen. Some of the weapons resembled guns in a passing fashion. Others looked like blades made from smoke. Still others were metal staffs that glowed at the ends. The only commonality between the hunters' weapons was their targets._

"_They're hunting us," I explained to Beast Boy._

_His awareness came in stages. "Oh. Ohhhh. Oh! Dude, that is sick!" he spat at the Master._

_Tetramanus flexed his arms, unimpressed. Given the chance, I'm betting his four-handed grip could have broken our hairy captor in half. "Yeah, yeah," he rumbled. "Big bad hunters are going to chase us around the forest until they get bored or crunched. So how do we win?"_

_The Master's smile widened. His joy filled me with a rage that, for once, was completely my own. "You don't," he said. "Each of you will be hunted until none of you remain. Theirs is the contest. You will have the honor of being prey."_

_Only Blackfire could speak by that point. "This garfles takflub," she snorted. "You don't seriously think we'll just run like frightened little Arthax, do you?"_

"_Yeah!" Bellafin gargled, emboldened by her defiance. "Why not just kick you in the gills and make you—?"_

_Gore sprayed from the back of Bellafin's head. He flopped on the ground, dead before he ever landed. I shut my third eye. I've "seen" death before, and I never want to "see" it again. The last breath of essence leaving a body…it's beautiful, and unspeakably sad._

_The Master of Games looked back at one of the hunters, a bug-eyed little insectoid who held a smoking sci-fi rifle. I burned his cretinous face into my memory, and vowed to wipe the smile off his proboscis personally. "Excellent shot, Lord Xxxyzx," proclaimed the Master._

_A long-eared, furry hunter shouldered his glimmering staff and snorted derisively while I swam in the fear of our little group. "I didn't pay you to shoot fish in a barrel, Gamesman. I want sport!" he groused._

_Tetramanus knelt and cradled his friend's body in his lower arms. Thick mucus drizzled from his eyes, which burned at the Master and the hunters. "I'll make you pay," he whispered, quivering with rage that boiled into me. "You'll pay for…"_

"_Yes, absolutely," the Master said, clapping. He announced to us, "We'll give you all a half-day's head start. You're free to go wherever you like."_

"_How long is a day here?" a crystalline hunter asked._

"_You know, I've never actually seen night fall here. I've never seen the sun through the upper canopy, for that matter," the Master mused. He grinned at us. It took everything I had not to reach through the ether and pluck the hearts I felt beating in his chest. Father would have been proud, which was reason enough to stay my hand, if only just. "I suppose we'll just wait until we become bored," he told us. "Good luck."_

_We all wanted to fight. I could feel it, pressing all around me, and even inside of me. But there were too many, too well armed, in too good a position to cut us down before we threw even one punch. _

_I should amend: Blackfire didn't want to fight. She took off like a shot, flying straight up, and disappeared into the endless sea of leaves above us. "Yeah, good luck!" she called down mockingly._

_There was a beat, and then she reappeared from the leaves half a length ahead of a flying predator that dwarfed any of Beast Boy's dinosaurs. The leathery creature flapped after Blackfire. Its cry quaked the jungle. It snapped at her lavender contrail, chasing the screaming Tamaranian through the highest boughs of the jungle._

_The Master and his hunters chuckled as Blackfire and the predator disappeared into the forest. "Take care," the Master said. "We aren't the only things hunting you."_

_His cackle followed us out of the clearing. I lingered to herd Beast Boy behind Celv'n, who burned a path through thick underbrush. For a second, I thought Tetramanus wouldn't come. He glared at the Master, shaking with rage. But he picked up Bellafin and followed us. Beneath his rage burned intolerable sadness. I floated closer to Beast Boy, and for once was glad for his deafening storm of emotion._

_

* * *

__We buried Bellafin ten miles away. It was mostly symbolic, since the hunters would probably find him and dig him up as a prize anyway. The thought twisted my stomach, but his body was slowing us down. I'd wanted to drop him sooner, but I said nothing of it to Tetramanus, and I was second behind Beast Boy to offer my help in laying him to rest. We placed him beneath the root of a skyscraping tree, and left the red giant to mourn over the grave for as long as we dared._

_I packed a mound of dirt beneath the root with my soul. Sweat soaked my shirt into a heavy, soggy, miserable mess. Tetramanus's clothes were likewise soaked in the wet jungle heat. Celv'n and Beast Boy still apparently didn't notice it in the slightest. If anything, Celv'n looked dimmer than he had when we first met, and his shivering had worsened._

_Brushing his blackened hands, Beast Boy stood from the dirt, and said, "Okay, Raven. I've had enough of this freaked-up vacation. Do your thing."_

_I mopped my brow with my sleeve. "What 'thing' is that?" I asked snappishly._

_"You know," he said, gesticulating, "teleporting. Call upon the Wand of Watoomb, or whatever, and get us home."_

_That idiot instantly made me the center of attention. Celv'n's ember sockets blazed with shock. I thought Tetramanus would strike me down with his glare alone. The ground shook as he stomped up to me and roared, "You can teleport? You could have sent us all home? You can get us out of here?"_

_"Please, save us!" Celv'n begged._

_Strictly speaking, I don't teleport. My soul is a living nexus of gateways, a curiosity of my birth that will probably one day bring about the apoc… You know what? It's complicated. Sufficed to say, I can transport myself to corresponding points between different dimensions, but not within the same dimension. _

_The trick lies in the fact that not all universes are the same size, but they all possess corresponding points. Some are large, like ours, and some are very old and very tiny. I open a gateway to the tiny universe, create a short tunnel to a new point, and then gateway back to the original universe, whose new corresponding point is much further away. Thus, it looks like I teleport. And it's easier to let other people call it that than to explain the mess I just wrote._

_We had arrived via technology, not magic. Not that they could tell the difference. For me, it was like being dropped in the middle of nowhere, blindfolded. Yes, I could port us, but there was no way of knowing from where or to where. And since I didn't feel that dumping us into the vacuum of space would improve our situation, I said, "I can't. If I could, I would have—"_

_Tetramanus had a grip like iron, and all four of them closed around me. He lifted me up and shook me hard. Rattling, I heard him bellow, "You could have saved Bellafin?"_

_Tetramanus was big. He made Cyborg look small, and Cyborg could probably fit me in his chest cavity if he took out all those vital electronics. I almost vanished inside Tetramanus's grip. It's important that you realize how big he was, because Beast Boy laid him out. Not a green gorilla. Not a green dinosaur. Beast __Boy._

_The skinny green twerp jumped and decked Tetramanus across the jaw. Tetramanus staggered back as if struck by a pile driver. All of his eyes lolled in different directions. He dropped me. Beast Boy had hardly landed before he drove his bony shoulder through Tetramanus's middle. The giant sprawled on the ground, and then grunted when Beast Boy pounced on his chest._

"_Don't you touch her," Beast Boy snarled. His hackles rose, and his lips curled to reveal canines sharper than I remembered. His eyes glimmered, slitted like a cat's, flashing bright green in the filtered light. His hands gathered fistfuls of Tetramanus's shirt as he growled in the face of the giant._

_The hairs on my neck bristled as something new emerged from the raging storm of Beast Boy's emotions. I only caught a glimpse of it before I pulled him off Tetramanus with my soul, careful to grab him only by the clothes. I definitely did not want to touch him physically or ethereally. "Enough," I snapped, setting Beast Boy aside. "I can't get us out of here. We're going to have to work together and figure something out."_

_Tetramanus glared down at Beast Boy, who shook his head as if dazed. "What's to figure?" the red giant said bitterly. "Those hunters are going to track us down and kill us. Especially with this flaming idiot dragging at our heels."_

_We all looked at Celv'n. The heat from his body made the wet jungle floor smolder. He had left a trail of browning plant matter wherever he walked. He looked down at the burning leaves, hugging himself, and said, "I can't help it. All this stuff keeps toasting whenever I touch it."_

_Accidental or otherwise, Celv'n had left a trail that even an idiot could follow, much less two dozen experienced hunters. "We need to stay calm and keep moving," I said._

_Tetramanus waved his lower arms and folded his upper arms. "To frell with that," he snapped. "I saw we turn around and take the fight to them."_

_Apparently, male stupidity isn't Earth-exclusive. "They're armed and equipped, and ready for us. And if we don't find water in a few hours, I'll have sweated myself into a mummy. And Celv'n looks like he'll be hypothermic well before then. If we work together, we increase our chances of staying alive until the situation changes. We have to wait for an opportunity. Charging them is suicide."_

"_Fark you, shortie," he snarled. "If you want to scamper, I won't stop you. But I bet the real heroes here know what needs to be done. Right, guys?"_

_Beast Boy finally snapped out of wherever his mind had gone. He looked up at Tetramanus, leaning back to do so. "Dude, why does it sound like you're speaking English? That's not even possible," he said._

_Celv'n just shivered._

_Rolling his top eyes, Tetramanus turned and stomped away. "Fine. Enjoy being hunted. I'm going to do something about this mess. See you at the end, if you're lucky." The green trunks bent as he pushed through and vanished into the underbrush._

_I watched him go until sweat blurred my vision. Then, unable to take it anymore, I summoned my soul into a short sickle. I hacked the sleeves from my sweatshirt, and then sheared it as high as I could before self-consciousness made me stop. Next went the legs of my jeans. By the time I was done, I had a pair of cutoffs and a sleeveless shirt that ended at my ribs. I'm not Starfire, and my navel isn't for display, but it was too damn hot. At least I wasn't like Beast Boy._

"_What are you doing?" I asked him, averting my eyes._

_He stood in the underbrush, blocked by colorful fronds. His clothes hung from a branch. His shoes lay discarded under a root. "These duds can't morph with me," he said, rustling the leaves with activity into which I dared not delve deeper. "So…_

_A skirt of leaves swished around his waist when he exited the brush. He had chosen the leaves carefully to match his complexion. His spoon-chest puffed as he turned and modeled the new apparel. "Well? Is this worth a 'ta-da,' or what?"_

_Playful in the face of death, I am not. I led us out of there quickly to stop myself from yelling at him._

_Beast Boy flew point in the feathers of an eagle. The leaf skirt fluttered from his beak. He kept well below the canopy to avoid predators like the one that had chased Blackfire. He would move ahead, brushing the limits of my visibility, and then circle back._

_I flew much lower, but kept my sneakers above the jungle floor. Celv'n floated behind me in a bubble of my soul. This not only kept him from burning a trail, but also kept him insulated in his own body heat. His searing temperature didn't bother the black ethereal matter of my other self, but the direct contact made his emotions ring that much louder. He felt afraid, almost uncontrollably so, and confused by his surroundings. I sensed his outsides tremble and his insides wail, and felt sorry for him. Obviously, the Master of Games had made some glaring oversights when selecting his formidable prey._

_The jungle watched us while we flew. I could feel eyes follow us from all around. The primal feelings behind those eyes ranged from curiosity, to fear, to outright hunger. I just kept my eyes, ears, and empathy peeled, and thought apex predator thoughts._

_Steep incline seeped gradually into the ground underneath us. The jungle rose with the hill, forcing us higher. Without being able to see our surroundings beyond the trees, I could only guess, but it felt like we were approaching foothills of some kind. If a mountain was nearby, its perspective could give us the lay of the land, and thus, better options._

_Finally, we found a watering hole nestled in a thick clump of trees, and stopped to rest. Beast Boy morphed back into his skirt while I set Celv'n on a mossy rock near the water. The moss withered at once._

_I made a cup from my soul and drank, forcing myself not to think of the alien microbes living in the water. I had never been sick a day in my life, and wasn't sure if I could get sick, but this would be a horrible day to find out. The water tasted indescribably foul. I couldn't drink fast enough._

_Celv'n just stared at the crystal water. "Aren't you thirsty?" I asked him, and offered him my soul cup._

_He eyed the water distrustfully. "What's 'thirsty?' And what is that?" he asked._

_Beast Boy had already shed his skin for that of a gazelle. He splashed in the water, watching three-eyed fish scurry from his hooves. Even I couldn't help myself, and removed my shoes to dip my toes in the water. A wonderfully cool sensation engulfed my feet and spread. I sighed, and splashed my face, and forgot for a moment that awful day in my rippling reflection._

_Something emerged from the trees on the other side of the pond. I tensed, but then relaxed. It was some kind of herbivore, judging by its teeth. The antlered creature dipped its long face into the water for a drink. Its beady black eyes watched us with disinterest. That's when I had an idea to gain a little insight into our surroundings._

_I rose slowly, levitating so that my toes skirted the pond's surface. The water felt good, but more importantly, I wanted the creature to notice me coming as much as possible. It would see the ripples I made, and hear the water rustle. The more it focused on me, the easier this would be._

"_What are you doing?" Beast Boy asked, human again, and hiding his lower half in the water (that I could no longer bring myself to drink, thank you so much)._

_I waved him silent. Explaining would take too long, and he wouldn't get it anyway. As I floated toward the animal, it looked up. Its legs tensed to run. I projected my essence over the creature. I lowered my psychic defenses and bathed the creature in a practiced, meditated calm. It wasn't easy to do, and I didn't like it, but the effects were instant and undeniable._

_The animal whinnied. It stayed. I hovered in front of it, concentrating on the cool sensation of my toes in the water, drawing on that feeling, pouring it into the creature. If I could keep it calm, I could touch its mind. Whatever it knew about the forest, I would know. I would learn the animal's habitat in an instant. Its emotions were still dangerous, but less so than a human's. Its emotions were simple and few. I could handle it._

_I got lucky: my mind hadn't reached the animal's when its head erupted with burgundy brain matter. The animal collapsed, splashing dead in the water. I tracked the cause of its death by looking opposite the brain spray. Metal glinted in the trees. I moved, and felt my hair jerk at a projectile's passing. My soul dove into the water and tore up a wave that broke the sniper's line of sight._

_The situation couldn't get much worse, but at least these "greatest hunters" were terrible shots._

_My psychic walls wrapped back around my mind while I flew across the pond. "Run!" I yelled. My wake sprayed the green gazelle with leaves around its neck, which turned into a leopard that bounded back to land. Celv'n had a head start on both of us. He burned through the underbrush._

_Beast Boy's sharp eyes spotted something I could not. He morphed human again and tripped over his skirt. Spitting up dirt, he cried, "Celv'n, wait!"_

_Celv'n stumbled over a wire strung between two trunks. The jungle rocked with an explosion that threw me into the brush. My head rang inside and out. My vision went black as I tried to straighten the shooting pain my body had become. I found up again, and pulled my face out of rotting plant matter._

_Two hunters stood over what remained of Celv'n. The fiery boy lay in the brush, bleeding magma from where his left half used to be. Smoke poured from beneath his body. He reached out drunkenly for one of the hunters—that bastard, Bug-Eyes, who waved a machete through the waning flame atop Celv'n's head. Bug-Eyes' faceted stare fell on me (too?) as his proboscis spread. "Four for four," he buzzed._

"_No fair," the other hunter whined._

_Celv'n's remaining hand erupted. More fire than I'd ever seen filled the jungle. The sweltering air sizzled in a cone of conflagration that consumed whole trees. Every last drop of humidity turned into dry, rasping heat. The world vanished into fire._

_I shielded my eyes until the flare dimmed. Heat seared my lungs as I looked up. An entire section of the jungle had turned to ash. Brushfire licked the edge of the black clearing. I saw two sets of smoldering boots next to the cold, lifeless lump of rock that had been Celv'n. His reddish glow was gone, as was the flame on his head. His sockets were dark._

_A blast like that would attract every hunter in the jungle. Still blind with heat, I called, "Beast Boy! Beast Boy!" I sensed, and found a tight ball of emotion a few feet away. I felt around and brushed against his bare leg. The brief contact sent a psychic shock through me that almost put me in a coma. Hissing, I scooped up a handful of peat and tossed it at him._

_Through watering eyes, I saw him rise from the bushes. He looked lost. The chaotic emotions in him shifted to fear and dread. "Raven?" he moaned. Blood dribbled down his brow. He'd hit his head. "We're dead?" he asked._

_We only had seconds at best. "We're not dead. Get up," I said. _

_His gaze wandered to the dark lump that had been Celv'n. "We're gonna die," he mumbled around a thick tongue._

_I threw more peat in his face. He sputtered, and I yelled, "We are not dying, you idiot. We are getting out of this. So—"_

_Thunder cracked. I felt impact, and a blinding wave of pain. Then, cold. Black blood leapt from my chest in three fountains. The jungle turned on its side and slammed into my head. Everything around me dimmed. The sweet air grew sticky in my throat. The crackle of the fire faded._

_Maybe the hunters weren't such rotten shots after all._


	4. New Order: Titan's Flight

* * *

* * *

**Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

* * *

** The New Order**: _Titan's Flight_

Tek grumbled miserably at the salmon swimming past her shoulder. The salmon weathered her unkind words and continued on until it left the light her armor cast. It vanished into the murky water, leaving Tek alone with her negative thoughts. Moodiness wouldn't win her any friends in Jump Bay. But then, salmon make poor friends anyway.

She trudged through the ocean floor, her enormous armor feet slurping in and out of sandy quag. The water made even the slightest movement a trial. Even with her suit doing most of the work, Tek felt her limbs cramping with fatigue. Whoever had installed the super-dimensional armor into her prior to the start of her memories clearly hadn't intended it for underwater adventure.

The suit's interior cooled her exertion. It dried her skin as fast as she could sweat. "I love you, suit," she huffed, and dragged her feet, "but seriously, would it kill you to transform into a submarine, or a jet ski? Even a propeller would help."

Sunlight rippled on the water's surface three hundred feet above her. It was still and quiet. For a fleeting moment, she contemplated hiding underwater while the lunatics chasing her gave up. She could bury herself in the sand, like the crabs she kept crunching underfoot, and remain safe.

"Sure," she told herself, and winced as another crab met its end beneath her heel. "Then, when those psychos get bored looking for me, they can tear the city apart to find me. Heck, they may do that just for fun."

A wordless command projected a map across her visor's heads-up display. She watched herself as a little blip trundling slowly through the blue expanse of the bay. Ahead, where the seabed began to rise, lay the island on which Titans Tower stood empty. Half an hour's walk behind her lay the shoreline.

She sighed, and then groaned when her foot plunged into a derelict lobster trap. "Great. Back to the Tower. Then what, alley girl? Gar and Raven didn't answer your call before you took the briny plunge. Vic's still discombobulated. And that X guy…"

Her eyes stung with the memory of Gloria Xang, her new and obnoxious social worker, crushed in her own car without warning. Red X and his gang had laughed off the incidental murder while bashing Tek through the city.

She sniffed and shook her head, and redoubled her pace. The HUD faded from her visor. "Get a grip. You've got one job left as a Titan. Just keep it together until someone else comes. Then you're done. Keep it together. Focus."

Tek kicked the lobster trap off her foot and climbed the gradual slope toward the island's shore.

* * *

An ill wind billowed the scalloped cape draped from Red X's shoulders. He perched atop the ledge of a skyscraper. Chipping statuary flanked him on either side, old gargoyles that had stood vigilant for decades as he did now. He watched the city bustle. Petty people with petty lives scurried far beneath him.

Behind him on the roof, his gothic witch sighed with impatience. "You know, the rooftop contemplation thing has been done to death. But you know what hasn't? That stupid robot girl. We should be taking care of her," Jinx insisted.

His gaze never left the city. His statuesque pose did not so much as twitch as he asked, "Jinx, why did you get into this line of work?"

She massaged her eyes and leaned on the gargoyle next to him. "No, see, this is not the way to be handling this. Instead of getting me to tell you about my past, so you can pretend to listen before speechifying about your past and how all the horrible things from your childhood will be made up for when you rule the city, we need to be proactive. I've tangled with this girl before. She's not much on brains, but she doesn't go down easy."

"Humor me," Red X said.

Rolling her pink gaze, Jinx said, "What do you want to hear? That my dad abused me? That mom didn't stop him because she was too drunk? That my life was a loveless suck-hole until the day I was bitten by a radioactive stage magician? Sorry. I was born with tons of magical potential that manifested as pure chaos. I taught myself to shoot that chaos because, really, the world sucks. So I take what I want, and to hell with everybody else."

Jinx could feel the speech rattling behind Red X's skull mask, begging for release. Every word he spoke had been lovingly chosen, and poured from his hidden lips in a reverberation tinged with nostalgia. "My father taught me everything I know about violence. He taught me to hunt any creature, beast or man. He taught me how to shoot, how to fight. I learned invaluable skills from him. But when I told him I wanted to follow in his stead, he balked. He had taught me because it was all he knew, and a father must teach his son something. But he wanted a different life for me."

"Yawn," said Jinx, never doubting that Red X wasn't listening to anyone but himself.

"And then the Titans murdered him," he said.

Her jaw snapped shut. "Okay. Not 'yawn.' Those goody-goodies really…? She drew her finger across her throat questioningly.

Red X nodded. "It was murder most foul. The Titans poisoned him, usurping his place of power in the city. Distraught, I gathered you, my players, to enact a performance that will confound the Titans with guilt and force them to confess their wrongdoings."

Jinx's shock fell into annoyance. She leaned around, trying to catch X's blank gaze from the city. "That's 'Hamlet.' Are you crazy? Because I don't work for—"

The rest of his body didn't move, offering Jinx no warning as he raised his gauntlet to her throat. Its blade snapped to the side of her neck, keeping her frozen and off-balance on the ledge. The sprawling street below dizzied her. She didn't trust her new command of the winds enough to catch her from a fall of that height.

"Hmm. So it is," Red X said amicably. His blade didn't budge. He didn't even glance at Jinx's quiet fear. "Luckily, it has the same message. I didn't get into this for spite or greed, like you. Spite cools with tolerance. Greed can be sated. I fight for vengeance, Jinx. And only when I have destroyed the Titans, and burned their city to the ground, and listened to the scurrying ants underfoot as they cry out for 'heroes' who will never come, will my thirst for vengeance begin to quench. I'm not crazy. I'm mad."

He swept the blade into his gauntlet. Jinx staggered back from the ledge with a gasp. Blood smeared her palm where she rubbed her neck. Her glare burned into his back as hex burgeoned in her hand. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your ass off this building right now," she snarled.

Finally, the statuesque Red X turned, his glare chilling the hex from Jinx's hand. "Because you know I'll succeed. Because you're spiteful and greedy, and you want the fruits of my work: the death of the Titans, and the dominion their absence will bring. At my side, you'll stand unopposed in Jump City. And all you need to do is put up with one mad avenger for a little while longer," he said.

Jinx lost the contest to X's hollow eyes. She blinked first. Lowering her hand, she turned from his glare and scoffed, "Drama queen."

Static crackled from Red X's gauntlet before Gizmo's voice emerged. "_She's hunkering at Titans Tower, or what's left of it. See-More and I are closest. We'll crunch the little scud before she knows what hits her._"

X grasped his gauntlet. "Gizmo, hold your position. Wait for me."

"_Calm down, barf bag. I'll save you a slice._"

"Gizmo? Gizmo!" Red X cursed his silent gauntlet as he hopped from the ledge onto the roof. He whirled upon Jinx, and demanded, "Fly me to the tower immediately!"

Wind whipped her long hair as she gathered a gale that could carry them both. "What's the hurry? Gizmo's great with techies like her. Plus, he's got your eye guy to back him up."

Despite his mask, he managed to convey a deep annoyance to Jinx. "You didn't listen to a thing I speechified, did you?"

Jinx grinned in spite of the cut on her neck. The air around them howled into a localized tornado tinged with pink. They drifted into the heart of the storm, where Jinx's will kept them safe and aloft. Above the howl of the wind, Jinx yelled, "Don't worry, Hamlet. I'll have you there quick enough to catch the big fight in Act Five. Just keep away from any poison swords."

"And humor, too? You were a real bargain," he shouted back.

* * *

The hallway swam with pitch. Without power to light itself, the Tower had become a dread place. Her penlight had done little to dispel the dark on her trek to Ops. Now she paused outside the double doors of the old command center. She was breathless, but not from her long climb up the stairs. She hesitated, but not out of fear. Her communicator hung by her lips, waiting for the rest of her distress call.

"Please," she said, "if anyone's listening, you have to help. There are no more Teen Titans, and Jump City is in real danger."

As she rambled the rest of her message, she realized just what her words meant. She wasn't a Titan anymore. Cyborg had passed her off to Social Services like a buck. And without the Titans, who was she? Some dumpy little amnesiac with a drug problem?

The monster in her head snarled at her whiny thoughts. She cringed.

"Um…that's it. Hope to meet you soon," she said, and shut her communicator. Clicking off her penlight, she jammed her fingertips into the crack of light between the doors. That crack grew with a mighty effort of her miniscule frame. With grunting and straining, she forced a gap in the doors wide enough to squeeze through.

_Welcome home_, she told herself glumly, and surveyed the derelict expanse of the room. Charred shapes teased her memory. She remembered the couch where they'd watched movies and played games, and the kitchen where Beast Boy and Cyborg had fought constantly over what counted as "meat" in a meal. What she didn't remember, and saw now, was a stranger in white.

Tek screamed and fell backwards as a boy in a flowing white keikogi leapt from the shadows. Metal flashed from his hand and struck the door above her. Landing on her hands and rear, Tek stared up in horror at the knife quivering where her head had been.

"I'm sorry!" her attacker said hastily. He raised his hands as he approached Tek, who held her suit on the cusp of its dimensional portal, ready to snap over her if need be. But the young boy seemed earnestly chagrinned about the attack. He kept his hands high, and stayed out of her reach as he said, "You startled me, and I didn't recognize you. I thought you might be a villain invading the Tower."

Tek studied him as she stood. The boy was barely as tall as her. He smiled at her with golden features and foxy eyes framed with coal-black hair. The keikogi masked his body, but the teal belt cinched tight at his waist suggested a wiry frame beneath those canvas folds. A long sheath hung from his waist. When her posture relaxed, he lowered his hands and bowed to her.

"You didn't recognize me?" she asked incredulously. She yanked the knife from the door. It dislodged on her third try. "Who are you? And who taught you to throw knives at strangers?" she demanded, punctuating her words with a wave of the knife.

The boy gingerly extracted his knife from Tek's wild swing. It disappeared into his flapping sleeve as though it had never existed. "Forgive me, please. My name is Ryuko Orsono, and I am here to help," he said. "I am an honorary Titan. They call me 'Bushido.'"

She didn't recognize the name. She had never heard of him. That alone should have made her suspicious. But with everything that had happened, the thought of help made all her annoyance vanish in a puff of hope. "Really? That's great!" Tek gushed. Then confusion creased her forehead. "Wait… I just finished calling for help, like, two seconds ago. There's no way you could have gotten here that quick. Are you a teleporter?"

Her confusion spilled into his face. His expression tilted. "What? No. What distress call?"

"Didn't you hear it on your communicator? Does this thing even still work?" she asked, and rattled her communicator next to her ear.

Bushido shook his head. "Er, no. I will have to check my messages. But I didn't return to the Tower for a distress call. I came here to help in the rebuilding efforts, to aid the Titans in their time of need. Where are they?"

Tek's lips tightened. "You're looking at them. I'm an honorary Titan too. Sort of. It's complicated. But everyone else is gone." The grim words rang hollow in the pit of Tek's stomach. It reminded her of why she had come to the Tower in the first place, even before being attacked. It was time for her final mission, and she would carry it out, however useless and unimportant it might be.

Why would Cyborg ask her to get something from the Tower? He had to know there was nothing left of value, not after Slade destroyed it. Unless… Unless what he wanted her to find wasn't useless at all, but integral to rejuvenating the Titans. Maybe it was a test. A test! Cyborg wanted to know whether or not she was worthy of being a Titan, and so had trusted her to find some secret weapon, or a computer file, or something so pivotal that the Titans couldn't continue on without it. This was her chance!

"Um, excuse me, miss…?" Bushido interjected.

She stepped back to the doors of Ops, closed her eyes, and concentrated on the instructions Cyborg had given her. With a deep breath, she paced forward, stretching her legs into Cyborg-like steps. "Tek," she answered offhandedly.

"Miss Tek, may I ask, to what distress did you make your call?" Bushido watched her stagger across the floor. Not knowing what else to do, he fell into step behind her, mimicking her long stride. "And what are you doing now?" he added.

When she reached her tenth step, she turned sharply and continued toward the wall. Bushido remained three paces behind, aping her swinging arms and tongue in teeth. "Cyborg gave me one last mission for the Titans. He wanted me to get him something important from a secret safe in Ops," she said.

Bushido followed her to a seemingly innocuous wall. As she patted the wall down, he watched over her shoulder, and asked, "Why was it your last mission?"

She cringed. Her stomach lurched, and she cursed her loose lips. "That's complicated too," she muttered.

Her finger pressed a hidden switch in the wall's nook. The wall squeaked as it split, swinging open. Both teens stepped back, and marveled at the pristine steel of an enormous safe door revealed behind the wall. The safe shone in comparison to the rest of the charred room. Its door reflected their awe perfectly, except for the keypad mounted in the center of the door.

"What is it?" Bushido asked.

"I don't know. Cyborg didn't say, except that it was super-important, and I'm the only one he trusted to get it." He hadn't said that, exactly, but surely he had meant it that way. She knew it. Hand trembling, she reached for the keypad. "Two. Six. Six. Nine. Two. Four," she rattled off with each key she pressed.

The safe door beeped, and slid up into its housing. Behind the door was a solid core of metal wrapped around what appeared to be a single drawer. When Tek pulled the drawer, it slid completely out of the metal. It was a security lock box.

Bushido eyed the security box. "After all that, I was hoping for something more…impressive? Some kind of weapon, perhaps."

Tek knew better. She knew of Cyborg's cleverness. Inside this box could be any number of gadgets, or super secret files, or some third thing she couldn't come up with at the moment. She tucked the box under her arm and took half a step toward the door. "Okay, I've got the MacGuffin," she said proudly. "Now I'll just…"

She couldn't take it back to Cyborg. That would just lead Red X and his goons straight to him, where he and the rest of S.T.A.R. Labs would be helpless to defend themselves.

"…I have no idea what to do next," she admitted. Her shoulders fell.

"Perhaps if you elucidate upon the danger of which you earlier spoke, I could offer a viable course of action," Bushido suggested.

"Huh?"

"Why were you so afraid when you came in? Before I threw the knife at your head," he clarified.

"Oh. There's these super villains chasing me. I don't know why, but they have some kind of freaky Titan jihad going on. I recognize most of them. Their leader is this scary skull guy with a thing for exploding crosses. Then there's this other guy with a huge—"

Her explanation dissolved into a scream as a beam of boiling red light carved through Ops' doors. A red blast blew the door into razor shrapnel. Tek and Bushido shrank from the peppering shards and watched a figure enter Ops through the smoking doorway. See-More's glowing eye preceded him through the smoke. His laugh came soon after.

"What's going on here? A Titans pep rally? Ha!" See-More crowed. He touched the ocular rig circling his head, turning its lens green. Then he spread a wave of devastation from his eye that tore apart everything it touched.

Tek shrieked again as she ducked behind the kitchen counter. The metal box rattled against her chest. She tried calling forth her armor, but everything was too loud and happening too quickly. The monster in her roared with such force that she shut her eyes. She curled around the box and tried to ignore her monster long enough to armor up.

A presence at her side made her look up. Bushido crouched next to her, also using the counter for shelter against the entropy spewing across Ops. "This one, does he have any other powers? Regeneration? Strength? Speed?" he asked.

"I don't know? Isn't the eye thing enough?" she shrieked.

He didn't answer. Bushido timed the green wave's sweep, waiting for an opening. Then he leapt after its passing and cleared the counter. Tek never saw him draw his blade. She heard only the faintest whisper of steel before she saw a katana flashing in his hand.

See-More saw Bushido coming. He cackled and changed his eye's color from green to white. "Let's go, ninja boy!" he cried. Raw force leapt from his eye, punching through the far wall with ease. See-More began correcting his aim, laughing all the while. He didn't recognize the swordsman from Red X's descriptions, but he wasn't about to waste a good opportunity, either.

Bushido became a ghost. He danced across the floor in a blur of white that See-More could not pin down with his beams. The young swordsman crouched low one instant, only to be airborne the next. He twisted horizontally through the air above a wasted shot and landed gracefully.

In seconds, the laughable distance between the two shrank to nothing. See-More's mirth faded when his shooting gallery became a melee. He reached up to change his eye. He never got the chance. Steel flashed, consigning See-More to eternal darkness.

Tek peered over the counter with enormous eyes at the sight of Bushido cleaning his blade on See-More's sleeve. The villain knelt before Bushido and clutched the remains of his ocular rig while a scream tore from his throat. Blood gushed from the eye beneath his hands, giving Bushido pause. He leaned down to better see See-More's single eye socket inside the broken device. "Fascinating. Your powers weren't entirely technological?"

"W-what did you do?" Tek asked, rising from behind the counter. She hugged the security box fiercely and gaped at the maimed villain.

Bushido afforded his foe one last, disinterested look. "I disarmed him. Shall I dispatch him?" he asked with a flick of his sword.

"No! No, no, no, no!" she cried. "Are you crazy?"

He frowned in consideration of the question while Tek circled the counter and See-More writhed in agony. Sheathing his sword, he said, "I don't think I'm crazy. But then, were I crazy, I would be a poor judge. Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Look what you did to him! Why would you—?"

Movement tickled Bushido's eye from outside the window. "We should duck," he said, and shoved Tek down. Blue energy sizzled the air over their heads a second later.

Spidery stalks carried Gizmo through the broad, empty Ops window. Squat cannons sat on his shoulders, glaring with blue protonic energy that he leveled at the heroic pair. "Don't move, stink bags!" he shouted. Then his gaze fell on the blood streaming from See-More's face. Staggering back on his mechanical limbs, he cried, "Holy hell! What did you do to him?"

Bushido responded with smoke pellets prestidigitated from his sleeve. Oily gas billowed at Gizmo's feet, blinding and choking him long enough to miss the swordsman dragging Tek to her feet. Protonic bolts sprayed from the smoke cloud, hastening them out Ops' doors.

They ran down the hall, ignoring the curses and random bolts landing behind them. Bushido had yet to break a sweat as he calmly asked, "Is there a plan for retreat?"

The security box thumped against her thigh as Tek followed him. Panting, she said, "This is where I ran to. I'm kinda out of ideas."

"We must fight or escape," he said.

"I know, I know!" she moaned, clutching at her hair. "The rest of Gizmo's buddies are probably already here. If only we had something faster than them, like a car, or a boat, or…"

A sudden idea struck her silent, which worried Bushido, because they were rapidly running out of hallway. Clanking footsteps three turns behind them made him prompt her, "Or what?"

"Downstairs!" she cried.

His eyebrow quirked. "The basement would be a far from ideal stage for a last stand."

"Not the basement. The Vehicle Bay!"

* * *

Red X staggered as the pinkish wind deposited him onto the beach. Before him loomed the rocky bluffs upon which sat the Tower. He felt a chill of excitement flow up from the sand and course to the tip of his head. Here, in the land of his enemies, his work would truly begin.

A spray of sand reminded him of Jinx's presence. She kicked grit from the polished tip of her shoe, and said, "Ugh. This place smells like orca hork. Why not just let Gizmo nuke the island into glass and get it over with?"

Grasping his gauntlet, X radioed, "Gizmo, report! What is your status?"

"_Those scat munchers got See-More!_"

A thrill tickled X's spine. "There are other Titans in there?"

"_Maybe. There was some kind of ninja with the robot girl. He carved the eyeball outta See-More's head with a freakin' sword. Now he and the girl are down in the garage. I got 'em cornered, though._"

Red X paced the beach, looking for some way up the bluffs. He cursed Jinx for not landing them outside the Tower. And where were Mammoth and Shimmer? "Cornered how?" he demanded.

"_They locked themselves in some kinda big, shiny, futuristic jet-thing. Not sure who they think they're kidding, though. Without any juice, there's no way they can launch…uh-oh._"

"Uh-oh? What 'uh-oh?'"

"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!_"

The bluffs above them belched thunderously, spewing fiery boulders ahead of a tremendous metal door. Jinx saved them from the avalanche with a canopy of hex. The door tumbled end over end and then splashed into the ocean.

"What the hell is going on?" Rex X shouted above the hiss of rocks vaporizing in Jinx's hex umbrella.

The bluffs roared again, this time with the power of four immense thrusters that drove a gleaming silver jet out of the launch tunnel secreted in the rock. X and Jinx caught only a glimpse of its long, sleek underbelly and angular wings before they tumbled back from the hot lash of its wake. Seated in wet sand, X watched the jet disappear into the sky. A screaming, spidery shape broke away from the jet's nose and tumbled into the ocean.

Red X stood in a fury of flying sand and pointing fingers. "What are you waiting for? Go after them!" he bellowed at Jinx.

The witch pulled her face out of the beach and unloaded a good portion of it from her mouth. Her eyes flashed at X. "What do you want me to do? I fly as fast as the wind. That thing looks like the space shuttle's juicing little cousin. There's no way."

Blades leapt from his gauntlet. He lowered the tip of one to Jinx's nose. "No!" he screamed. "It isn't over! It isn't over until every last Titan is dead!"

A matrix of dancing pink engulfed X's blade. The tempered steel dissolved, wafting as dust on the breeze. Jinx stood with more hex in hand and gestured to the vanishing glow of the jet's thrusters. "Wake up, Baby Face. It's over, and we won! That was the last batch of Titans in town, and they just hightailed it out of here. There's nobody left."

He reached into the sky as if to pluck back the jet. No trace of it remained. "But that's not… It isn't…" he faltered.

Jinx watched him grasp at nothing. The hex faded from her hands. She had known him for less than a day, and in that time she had hated him, feared him, dismissed him, and even admired him. But now she felt sorry for him. His whole being hinged on the Titans' destruction. Even in the lowest moments of her career, Jinx had more than her hatred to which she could cling. Red X did not.

She took him by the shoulder and steered him from the beach. Her hand kept him upright until he found his legs again. "Let's go. We need to pick up Gizmo and see what's left of See-More," she said.

* * *

The yoke rattled in Tek's hands while she watched clouds roll beneath the nose of their jet. Throughout their harrowing takeoff, she'd thought silent prayers of thanks for Cyborg, who had built the Icarus from an alien scout craft they had captured months earlier, and who had kept the craft in such impeccable repair that it still worked even after weeks of neglect. She also gave thanks for the Icarus's seismic cannons, which had been able to solve their problem of the inoperative launch door.

Something red lit up and flashed on her instrument panel. She kept praying.

Bushido sat in the copilot seat. "Sat" was a generous word for it—he crouched on the seat's edge, his hands constricting the armrests, his body tensed to the point of trembling. When he could no longer see the world whizzing beneath them at ungodly speed, he relaxed enough to remember to breathe again. "I am…grateful that you know how to fly," he said slowly.

She added her spotty memory and its skills she had yet to fully unlock to her list of thankful prayers. "Me too," she muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," she said.

They fell silent. The soothing whine of the engine eased Tek out of her adrenaline rush. She felt her monster and her panic waiting for her. She and Bushido were out of danger for the moment, but what next? None of the other honorary Titans were answering her call, besides Bushido. Except…

"I know about you," she said without preamble. "I know who you really are, Bushido. You're not a Titan."

Bushido glanced sidelong at Tek, who did not meet his gaze. "Is that a fact?" he asked pleasantly.

His hand drifted imperceptibly toward his blade, until she said, "You're just some kid who thinks this is his big shot. You went to the Tower looking to join the Titans." She gave him a sad smile, and said, "Sorry. I only knew because whoever gave me my powers also made me into this weird living super hero encyclopedia. If you were really a Titan, I would know everything about you just by looking at you, right down to 'boxers' or 'briefs.'"

He relaxed again, and his hand fell into his lap. A reflection of her smile sprang into his lips. "How disconcerting," he said.

"But you have to know," she said gravely, "what you did to that eye guy was wrong. Seriously wrong. Titans never hurt people like that. They do their best to make sure that everyone stays safe, even bad guys. They don't...do that."

"They?"

Running a hand through her greasy hair, Tek said, "Look, in all honesty, I'm not exactly a Titan either. Cyborg kinda…fired me. I was just there to pick up that." She gestured to the security box seated at a station behind them. Whatever was in there, though, would make her a Titan again. She knew it. Cyborg would see how hard she had worked to retrieve his secret weapon, or whatever it was, and reinstate her in a heartbeat.

"I see. So there are no more Titans," Bushido muttered. "Then what do you propose we do?"

"We get help. Let's call the Justice League, or something," said Tek.

He smirked. "Certainly. Do you have a way with which we might contact them? Or perhaps you can simply fly your heavily armed aircraft into space and demand their attention."

Her monster yowled, stirring her to anger. "Well, I could always fly my heavily armed jet to Metropolis and talk to Superman!" she retorted with a scowl.

"Where he will doubtless take the word of two strange teenagers, one armed, and the other…what is it you do, again?" he asked.

Tek clutched her head and groaned. The monster prowled her skin, yowling for the contrarian boy's blood. She felt an urge to leap atop him and tear his throat out with her teeth, and urge that wasn't quite her own. Bloodlust rang in her head, louder than ever, making it impossible to think. "Shut up!" she shouted, and doubled over.

The smirk fell from Bushido's face. "Are you all right?" he asked.

His hand grazed hers. Rage exploded behind her eyes. The monster roared, filling her with itself. She shrank from his touch and bolted from the cockpit. "Bathroom," she squeaked hastily behind her. The sliding hatch slammed shut.

Bushido found himself alone in the cockpit of an aircraft he could not fly. He stared first at the closed hatch, and then across the chrome and white interior, and finally at the endless array of switches and buttons that surrounded the steering yoke. Another flashing red light appeared on the panel.

He laid his sheathed blade across his lap, bowed his head, and prayed with a whisper.

* * *

The tiny confines of the Icarus's bathroom rattled at Tek's' thrashing. She reeled against the sliding door, weaving her hands through her hair as she grasped at the violent thing living in her head. Blood trickled from her bitten lip as she kept her monster's roar from tearing out her mouth.

_Leave me alone_, she sobbed in her crowded head.

Behind closed eyes, she saw her monster's face. Great red jaws dripped hungrily as its cruel eyes burned through her. She felt it reach through her, clawing for her arms. It would take her arms for itself, and rip, and gnash, and tear until every living thing that could harm it lay dead at her feet. Its jaws split with another roar that shook her mind, spraying rage through her thoughts.

Tek screamed and fell. Her head struck the stainless steel toilet. Stars blinded her as pain consumed the monster's roar for a brief, dizzying respite. She staggered against a small compartment beneath the sink. Its door fell open.

Through fading stars, Tek saw into the compartment, and spied a small bottle of pills sitting on the bottom shelf. Frantically, she contorted herself onto her hands and knees and snatched the bottle. It had no labels, only a childproof cap to suggest its contents' purpose. She fumbled with the cap. Already, she could hear her monster's roar growing between her ears. She hoped and prayed, and swallowed two of the pills. Bitter and chalky, they dropped into her stomach. _Let this work_, she thought. _I need this to work!_

Tek tensed and waited. At first, the monster roared louder than it ever had, like it knew what she tried to do. She felt a warm trickle on her lip, and wiped blood from her nose. But then, as her hope began to wane, the monster's roar dimmed. It dwindled. Finally, it stopped. The only noises Tek heard were the hum of the engine and the gasp of her breathing.

She stared down at the pills in wonder. For months, she had abused potent tranquilizers to quell the bloody monster in her. Even those had failed in the end. But when she needed it the most, these pills had bought her peace from the monster. Even the ache in her head felt better.

Pounding on the door made her scream in surprise. She heard Bushido through the door. "Is everything all right?"

Tek palmed the small bottle and straightened herself as best she could in the cramped bathroom. Then she slid the door open and stepped out into the carrier compartment, a long room lined with benches and equipment lockers that Cyborg had designed from the former spaceship's cabin. Bushido stood a respectful distance away as he examined her. A stack of blue cloth and a folded map sat in his hands.

She edged out of the bathroom, keeping her pills hidden behind her back. "I'm fine. What's that?" she asked of his holdings.

"Clothes, and an idea. I found spares of your uniform in one of these lockers, as well as extra communicators, food rations, tools, and several cases of a 'Booyah' energy drink. The clothes I thought you would appreciate because you…how to put this delicately? You smell awful," he said pleasantly.

Tek took the clothes with a blush. As she extended her arm, she saw him notice the track marks in her elbow. She drew back the clothes quickly. "And the idea?" she asked, unable to meet his eye.

Bushido unfolded the map and spread the world out in paper segments for Tek to see. "I had pondered the problem at hand, keeping in mind the likelihood that teenagers such as us will be unsuccessful in contacting the Justice League, short of hovering over a city and demanding to speak with its members."

Imaginary Leaguers tore apart the Icarus of Tek's mind. She shook her head. "Bad plan," she agreed.

"But, and this is perhaps a misconception of mine, if you are indeed a 'hero encyclopedia,' as you say, you are also aware of heroes' locations. For instance, you know from where Superman and Batman operate?"

"Um, duh?" Tek found Metropolis and Gotham city, and pointed to both on the map.

"Green Arrow? Wonder Woman?"

She pointed to Star City, and then to a blank section of ocean.

"Captain Marvel?"

Her finger found Fawcett City. "So? What's your point?"

"What about younger heroes? Heroes more inclined to heed our call, and join us in saving the city? Can you find those?" Bushido asked.

Tek snorted. "That's it? That's your plan? My brain doesn't work like that. I have to see or know the hero before I can rattle off anything about them. I'm not like a hero yellow pages."

"Tek…"

Bushido's gaze guided hers down to the map. Her finger had moved on its own, and now hovered over Chicago, Illinois. As she stared at the map, a sense of certainty overrode her confusion. She didn't know how or why, but she knew without a doubt that someone fitting Bushido's description waited for them in Chicago.

"Where else?" he insisted.

Her finger moved again. London. Los Angeles. Atlanta. "This is unbelievable," she murmured, half amazed at the information trapped in her skull, and wholly annoyed that Bushido had accessed it with nothing more than a map and an idea.

He smiled serenely. "As I see it, we are two socially conscious adolescents in possession of the necessary will, equipment, and information. Who better to pull together a team of able-bodied, like-minded adolescents with which to combat the forces of evil?"

"Us?" she squeaked.

Bushido shook his head. "No. You. I was never a Titan, but you were."

"But I got fired."

Bushido leaned over, watching her finger map out a host of promising leads. Then he met her gaze with clever eyes, and asked, "But do they know that?"

Tek felt sick to her stomach at the thought of turning around and facing Red X alone. She wished with all her heart that one of the other Titans would appear and take charge. Even Terra would have been a welcome sight! But it was just her, a half-pint swordsman, a map of possibilities, and a jet with a questionable amount of fuel.

Her mouth tasted of watery pre-panic vomit as she muttered, "Titans, go…"

* * *

The night sky glowed red over Jump City. Choking smoke plumed above the streets, curtaining its skyscrapers in a haze that burned the eye and scraped the lung. Buildings too new to be lived in, some even still under construction, crackled in careless fire left in the wake of a vile celebration.

Mammoth bent, shouldering another car with ease. His mouth spread with a deeply satisfied breath as he smelled the carnage around them. Then he heaved his car, watched it sail through the smoke, and cheered when it landed in the police cruiser parked at the far end of the block. Armored officers scurried from the cruiser before it burst into flames.

"Man," he said to Shimmer, who melted a lamppost into acid with a single touch, "I forgot how much fun it is fighting people who can't fight back."

Shimmer cackled her agreement. 'We should torch an orphanage. Does anyone know where we can find one?"

Above her, Gizmo roamed the streets on his spidery stilts. His protonic cannons punched holes in the landscape. Touching his temple, he willed a Wi-Fi search engine into his eye lenses. "Hang on. I'll Google one. It'll be funny, 'cause they think they already don't have anything!"

Jinx lagged behind, trailing fire in her winding path. The joy of destruction felt incomplete. She glanced up at an older building, spying one gargoyle too many among its statuary, and knew why. "You guys go ahead," she said. "I'll catch up later."

"We should pick up ice cream and eat it in front of them," Mammoth suggested.

As her friends continued their party down the street, Jinx paused and concentrated. She was getting better, but it still took considerable effort to call up just enough wind to fly. Her first attempts with elemental magic had resulted in bad hair days and near-death experiences. Now, she gathered a gale beneath her and soared, judging distances and force on the fly to drop her perfectly onto the ledge.

Just as she'd thought, Red X was brooding in the shadows of a fearsome gargoyle. His mask lay at his feet, leaving Jinx to smirk at his moping expression. He glanced up at her, and asked, "Why aren't you celebrating?"

"Why aren't you?" she retorted, and sat next to him. "I know you're new at this, so here's a clue: we won. Sure, See-More's useless now, but so what? No more Titans! That's the golden ticket, Charlie. Punch it, and ride the good times, because I guarantee they won't last long enough."

He leaned on his knees and watched the city burn. "This feels all wrong. I've trained my whole life. When my father died, I thought this would be my purpose. To avenge his death, and destroy the Titans. But when it came down to it, the only Titan I could even find is some weakling poser, and all I did was chase her off. Now what do I do?"

Her face twisted with disgust. "You aren't seriously complaining about winning, are you?" she asked.

Rex X rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry. My existentialism must be depressing you. Go. Have fun with your friends. Enjoy your petty crime and mindless destruction. I'll just sit up here and try not to bother you while I figure out what to do with the rest of my life."

Jinx grabbed his face and kissed him. She ignored his muffled squeak and his brief struggle, and held him fast by the chin. Her tongue teased his until he kissed her back. Then she pulled away, grinning at his dumbfounded, adorable expression.

"See what I did there? I saw something I wanted, and I took it," she told him.

Slowly, a smile crept across his face. "Take it again," he said.

"Make me."

He snared her and dipped her across his lap for a slow, intoxicating kiss. Jinx felt years' worth of repression pouring out of him. She happily reciprocated, fingering his chestnut hair, savoring the taste of his desire, until at last they both needed breath.

Gasping, Jinx didn't fight his tentative embrace. She rested her forehead against his and purred, "What's your name? Because I'll tell you right now, no matter how good you are, you'll never get me to scream, 'Oh, yes, Red X, yes!'"

Flushed in the light of the fires, he said, "Grant."

"I'm Nichole. Now get off your ass and show me a good time, loser."

"Drama queen," he teased back. Chuckling, he rose with Jinx still in his arms. A grappling line leapt from his gauntlet and snared another burning building. With her at his side, Red X swung into the city for some petty, greedy, altogether satisfying debauchery.

The Titans were no more. They owned the night.

**To Be Continued**


	5. New Order: Letters from Home

* * *

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

* * *

**New Order**: _Letters from Home_

Cyborg thought, and didn't like it one bit. He thought a lot and often. He only thought. Sometimes he talked. Now was one of those sometimes.

"_Then enter 'two-six-six-nine-two-four' into the keypad. That'll open the safe. It has an internal battery and extra shielding, so if anything survived, the safe would,_" he broadcasted into the holo-projector at Starfire's bedside. "_Then, bring what's inside back here, and…that's it._"

Grainy footage of Tek and Gloria Xang tickled Cyborg's visual cortex. He had taught himself to "see" by extending his wireless connection into S.T.A.R. Labs' security circuit. The camera in the room's ceiling showed him Tek's slumping posture and Gloria's upbeat ushering as the pair left the room. The door scarcely closed behind them before it opened again for Doctor Brown.

"How are you feeling, Victor?" Brown asked the hologram on the table.

It had been almost two weeks since Robin had torn him apart. He had spent half of that time effectively dead. The rest of his time had been spent like this, as a disembodied consciousness being maintained and made cognizant by the Labs' technology. Talking through a projector and seeing through cameras was bad enough. Watching through cameras as someone talked to a projection of his face was disconcerting. He almost wished they'd left him off.

"_Still don't feel anything, Doc. Except bored,_" he said with a digital sigh. "_The non-restricted files on your mainframe aren't exactly what I'd call interesting._"

Brown smiled thinly at the hologram. Cyborg hated that hologram. "Well, I'm sorry for that. I have a few of our neuro-statisticians working out how to connect your brain to the internet safely. I don't want to be responsible for replacing your superego with spam insisting that you're the new king of Nigeria."

Cyborg let Doctor Brown laugh without joining in. He liked watching her laugh. In some small ways, Brown reminded him of his mother. The way Brown's long braid swished behind her lab coat, and the way her smile beamed from her rich complexion in the grainy camera image, made Cyborg recall happier times.

Unfortunately, he knew Brown well enough to know when she was really laughing, and when she wasn't. "_What's wrong, Doctor?_" he asked suspiciously.

She hesitated, confirming his fears. "Victor, we've completed the reclamation process on your old body." It was the process they'd been working toward since he'd been carted to the Labs, and the answer he'd dreaded hearing since they'd waken him. Drawing a breath, Brown said, "The team was able to salvage twenty-nine percent of your original body."

Twenty-nine.

Twenty-nine. Down from forty-six. Which had once been one hundred. Somewhere outside of himself, he knew his stomach was sinking. If he still had a stomach.

Brown seemed to read his mind. "Quite a bit of your digestive tract is still there, and we managed to save a lung, and…" Her wan smile fell. "Perhaps the details can wait. What's important now is that we discuss your future."

"_Why does that sound familiar?_" he said miserably, thinking back to his conversation with Tek.

"Victor, you've lost a serious amount of biological matter in the last two years. Less than a third of your original biomass is left. You should have serious concerns about whether or not anything will be left if you continue living like this." Brown sat down next to the projector and stared meaningfully through it. He wished she would look up at the camera so he could see her face. "I need to know if you meant what you told your little friend. Are you really finished with…this lifestyle?"

Twenty-nine. Twenty-nine. Twenty-nine.

"_Yeah,_" Cyborg said. "_I really…I don't think we're coming back after this. I guess…_"

A breath of relief relaxed from Brown's clenched chest. She produced her ever-ready clipboard and paged through a set of schematics that appeared as grayish blobs to the security camera's lens. "Excellent. Because we've made some incredible leaps in prosthetics in the last three years. Much of the latest developments have been because of you, actually, and your father. It won't be like last time at all."

Brown began describing the cybernetics program that had evolved nationwide in S.T.A.R. Labs after his accident, and the plasti-derm skin façade they had developed that looked and felt like the real thing. Cyborg only half-listened. His thoughts wandered as he focused the security camera on Starfire.

She hadn't moved all week. Machinery surrounded her bed, breathing for her, making her heart beat, pumping in nutrient, collecting waste, and bathing her naked, bandaged body in fake sunlight. Starfire had given everything for the Titans, and now she wasn't alive by any definition of the word she would accept.

Cyborg had given everything for the Titans. What did he have to show for it?

Twenty-nine percent.

"—and so we'll need to shut down your sensory functions for the installation process," Brown said, regaining his attention.

"_What?_" Shut him off? They'd spent all that effort reactivating him just to turn him off again?

She nodded. "We can't very well keep you awake while we're installing you into the new Victor Stone. Surgeons are a notoriously self-conscious lot. Besides, I think our Security Department is tired of you lurking in their camera system." She gave the camera overhead a wry wink.

Cyborg nodded. Then he realized that he couldn't nod, and so said, "_We might as well do it now. I'll shut down visual and auditory functions myself. Not like I'll be missing much. How long's the new body gonna take?_"

"A few weeks," she said, standing. "But I'll have my best people working on it at once." As she left the room, she paused, and looked back at Cyborg's hologram one last time. "I'm happy for you, Victor. You'll finally look like you're supposed to. You'll have your life back. You could even finish school, if that's what you want. And in the mean time, you should enjoy yourself."

"_Enjoy myself? I'm gonna be a head in a jar with no eyes or ears. What am I supposed to do?_"

Standing in the doorway, she shook her head. "Your mind is connected to the most powerful mainframe network on the western seaboard. You are essentially a living program. With a little imagination, you can reshape your perception of that mainframe into almost anything. You could even make it like Tron if you wanted."

"_What's 'Tron?'_" he asked.

Brown glared into the camera. "You children make me feel so old," she groused.

Cyborg took one last look at Starfire before willing his sight and sound offline, effectively trapping himself in the confines of the Labs' computer network. He looked to what being a Titan amounted. Suddenly, twenty-nine sounded like a lucky number.

* * *

With the magic of human imagination and the most powerful mainframe network on the western seaboard, Cyborg's psyche constructed for him the largest high-definition television ever conceived by man. He watched it from a leather couch he had manifested from the pure digital essence in which he sat. The world around him appeared white and endless, empty, with light everywhere from no visible source. His television hung on nothing as it presented him with each file in the Labs' network in the form of a channel.

He flicked lazily through thousands of files. Lab reports, office supply requisitions, and parking notices all bored him alike. Days passed as he watched only those experiment reports that had been declassified, like the secret project for NASA they had been working on, entitled "Project Velcro." Time stretched into days, weeks, months, years, centuries, eons, and whatever came after eons.

A yawn split his jaw. Considering that he didn't have a jaw at the moment, or lungs with which to yawn, Cyborg figured that was justification enough for a little mischief. Leaning forward on his couch, he thumbed his universal remote, channel-surfing toward more interesting and less available files.

He reached the personal files kept on the network, one for each scientist that worked in the national network of Labs. Just a quick peek at their basic information couldn't hurt, he decided. He'd make a game of it: count the number of physicists versus biologists versus mathematicians, and see which kind of science S.T.A.R. Labs favored. Maybe send prank emails to departmental heads, or try and stir an office romance with a falsified electronic love note. Forgiveness had to be easy to come by for the poor, unfortunate kid who was a head in a jar, right?

Then he saw a name in the list of scientists' files, a name that made him forget his fun. He clicked the remote, guiding its cursor over the name "Stone, Silas," on the screen. He clicked again.

The file opened into a list of smaller files, organized and numbered meticulously. It took a second for Cyborg to recognize the numbers as dates, days and years not separated by punctuation. Scrolling down, Cyborg found a file for nearly every day of an almost two-year length of time. The first date on the list struck a chord in him.

Cyborg's thumb hovered over the remote. The file had been unprotected, unlike all the others. He could still go back and hack another file for fun, and leave this file and its stomach-churning name alone. He could exit the file, and forget.

Click.

Cyborg felt a jolt as Silas Stone stared back at him from the television screen. The old man sat behind a desk that had been painfully organized into stacks of papers, scientific awards and plaques, all capped with a name plate on the front of the desk that labeled him the head of his department. He wore a rumpled lab coat over mismatched clothing. Peppery hair curled on his head and stubbled his strong jaw. The digital ghost seemed unconcerned with Cyborg's shock.

"_Day one. Silas Stone, PhD, Biomedical Engineering,_" Silas said in a crisp voice devoid of humility. "_I am recording this journal separate from the official logs to help track a rather more elusive variable in the experiment; the psychological ramifications of the replacement of biological systems by cybernetic prosthetics in a human subject. As this matter of psychology is outside of my field of expertise, I will merely be recording my observations so that they may be examined at a later time by someone more qualified._

"_The test subject, Victor, is an African-American male, aged thirteen to seventeen—_"

Cyborg muted the file. His hand cracked the remote. That miserable old bastard had made a journal about him? And just left it on the S.T.A.R. Labs server, where anyone could see it? "Psychological ramifications?" spat Cyborg.

He mashed the mute button again. Click. "_—extremely athletic,_" Silas continued. "_A recent altercation with an extra-dimensional being has resulted in the loss of approximately fifty-three point six percent of Victor's biomass. Thanks to the facilities here at S.T.A.R. Labs Metropolis, we were able to preserve the remaining biomass in stasis. Though Victor is legally dead, I and my colleague, Doctor Walter Smith, are confident that we can revive him through the use of Smith's Cybernetic Combat Enhancement Project. We've grafted the prototype cybernetics to Victor's remains. Tomorrow, we'll make our first attempt at reinitializing Victor's cognitive functions._"

Click.

"_Day two. Re-initialization…did not go well, psychologically speaking. In all other aspects, it was a remarkable success. Victor awoke with almost all memory and cognitive capacity intact, exceeding all of our expectations. Unfortunately, he did not take the discovery of his cybernetic prosthetics at all well. Victor became violent and unreasonable, forcing us to temporarily deactivate his motor functions before he did further harm. His strength is markedly increased, thanks to implants that were intended to enhance soldiers, but his mind is beset with grief. I should make mention of the fact that the same incident that harmed Victor took the life of his mother…_

"_Excuse me…_

"_With great patience on the part of myself and my research team, we managed to calm Victor down enough to listen to reason. He is terribly angry, which I suppose is normal in this type of situation. Once he's calmed down enough, we'll restore his motor functions and begin the long process of adapting him to the prosthetics._"

Click.

"_Day twenty-one. Victor's physical therapy has reached an impasse. I blame myself. He insisted upon attending his mother's funerary services. My official recommendation was to disallow this; Victor has not yet adapted to his increased strength, and does not possess the fine control necessary for real-world interaction. Nevertheless, Doctor Hamilton felt it would be productive toward his emotional recovery, and so I accompanied Victor on the outing._

"_The results were as expected. Victor broke two doors and three chairs simply entering the facilities at which the services were held. His loss of control seemed to upset him further, making his clumsiness worse, and therefore more dangerous. I advised the ushers to isolate both him and myself from the rest of the funeral's attendees for their safety._

"_As the services progressed, Victor's emotional instability worsened. His mind has not yet adapted to adjusting his new vocal cords. When he attempted to shout at me, he projected his voice at approximately ninety decibels, further upsetting himself and the other guests. My physician is confident that the hearing in my left ear will return, given time._"

Click.

"_Day one hundred and forty-two. Victor is growing restless living in the Labs. His body has acclimated fully to its new prosthetics. However, I feel his mind is not yet ready to leave. As such, I've recommended, and Hamilton agrees, that he should remain here for the time being. I feel that keeping him here is the right choice. I…He is not ready to go back yet._

"_When news of this reached Victor, he became agitated and reclusive. He has barricaded himself in the living quarters we adapted for him out of Lab Three. I remain unconcerned; the lab possesses a table and recharge station with ample resources to keep him maintained. When he decides to stop pouting and come out, we will resume our work rehabilitating him and charting his progress toward his eventual, necessarily distant reintegration with society._

"_I suppose it would be untoward of me to ignore the validity of his frustration. As an emotionally-developing adolescent suffering from extreme trauma, it is normal for him to seek out some semblance of his former life. This is why I maintain an attitude of understanding and generosity toward his childish outbursts._

"_As a side note, I'm developing an artificial digestive and waste management system for Victor. It will replace the lost portions of his tract, and interact fully with the rest. The chemical energy garnered from eating food will be negligible compared with his new body's total power consumption, but Victor has been complaining of hunger for weeks now. I suppose it would be easier to suppress those hunger impulses via programming, but... Well, Victor always loved to eat."_

Click.

Silas's peppered hair had turned entirely white. He scowled into the camera, and tapped his pen against his desk in an agitated rhythm.

"_Day two hundred and eight. They found Victor at the cemetery again. This makes three successful breakouts and three retrievals. Of course, I've expressed my disappointment with him, but he remains unapologetic. He informed me that he would continue to escape and that I could take my disappointment and apply it forcefully in a rectal fashion. I paraphrase, naturally. While I in no way condone his actions, I cannot help but admire, from a purely scientific standpoint, the ingenuity he demonstrates in his escapes. Connecting directly with the Labs' security grid and initiating a hazmat emergency evacuation was quite the diversion. Professor Hamilton does not quite appreciate his cleverness as I do._

"_It has become obvious that Victor will no longer accept the lab for habitation. With great reluctance, and against my recommendation, Professor Hamilton is discharging him to resume his public education within the week. Special arrangements have been made to guarantee his safety and the safety of the student body._

"_I cannot stress enough what a mistake this decision is. Victor is in no way ready to rejoin the population, either physically or emotionally. There is still so much we do not understand about how his body will react long-term to his prosthetics. If something was to happen, and his body began rejecting the replacements, no one would be on hand to help him. No school nurse, regardless of qualification, can restore to function an eight million terahertz cognitive processor. Victor's return to school is a mistake._"

Click.

"_Day two hundred and twelve. Victor didn't last the day in school. Between being banned from all athletics and being singled out from the student body because of his appearance, I don't believe he'll return to any form of off-site schooling now. It's just as well. S.T.A.R. Labs has offered to pay for the damages incurred, but the school district remains adamant about their law suit. Frankly, I'm just happy to have him back at the lab._

"_Unfortunately, the incident has left Victor dourer than ever. I fear society's rejection has been a bigger blow than the loss of his organics. He mopes in his room, refusing to leave. He does not watch those retched television shows he used to frequent, or read the empty-headed tripe magazines I bought for him. He isn't even eating anymore, which is likely the most serious sign of his worsening depression._

"_We need to find something with which to occupy his attention, something he can focus on. And I believe I have such a diversion for him, one that will supplant his doomed notion of public education. It's high time Victor became the scientist he was always meant to be."_

Click.

"_Day two hundred and eighty. Victor is a frustrating student. Despite his superior genetics, he has demonstrated a feeble grasp on the interplay between the human body and technology. I had hoped to teach him more about his cybernetics, to engage him in his own progress. But he will have none of it. Worse, I suspect his failure to learn is by deliberate and spiteful design._

"_I am running out of ideas. All my efforts to connect with Victor on a personal level are failing. This is, admittedly, not my strongest suit, but it remains irritating regardless. Victor grows more resentful of me every day he remains here. He won't talk to me. I'm beginning to fear that he is contemplating suicide."_

For the first time since the journal's beginning, Silas sighed, and wilted. His studious voice cracked as he said, "_I wish Elinore were here. She would know what to do._"

Click.

"_Day three hundred._" Silas's face and voice tightened. New wrinkles had appeared over those that had slowly blossomed since the journal's inception. "_Victor has run away again. This time, he has avoided retrieval. He has been gone almost seventy-two hours, and…_"

His fist slammed the desk at which he sat, rattling the entire recording. "_Why would he run away? We had everything he needs! He was provided for here! He was safe!"_

Then Silas breathed deeply. He straightened his clip-on tie and smoothed his hair, which was thinning noticeably. "_Forgive me. I'm merely overcome by Victor's apparent selfishness. He refuses to appreciate what we've done for him. I…He can't see the larger picture. In ten months, we've revolutionized cybernetics with a decade's worth of development. Medicine itself will change, and all he can think about is himself. We conquered death, and he's concerned only with the way he looks. I don't—_"

Cyborg threw his remote through the television. Its screen burst in a spray of glass. The floating TV teetered, then toppled, smashing on the digital plane. He stood up and snarled, "Selfish? Selfish! You would know, you arrogant old bastard!

"A frustrating student? Look at me! Look at what I've done!" Cyborg gestured down to his body, which wasn't his body, but a digital representation of what he thought his body should look like. His prosthetics shone, newly polished, as he presented them to the broken television. "I've been keeping this hunk of junk going for two years now. I upgrade it myself. I even redesigned my optics to do things you never imagined! I can see in infrared and ultraviolet now, and it's all because of me! My eye is **my** eye. You didn't do jack!

"Suicide? I just wanted to get out of there!" Cyborg laughed bitterly, and knocked the couch over with an enraged kick. "You kept me in that lab for months like I was some kind of experiment. I was leaving so I could see mom. You didn't care. You never went to see her. You never even took me to see her!

With a poisonous thought, he repaired the television and the couch, replacing them to where they had been. He sat heavily and clicked on the next file. There were still quite a number to see, and all of them were from dates after he had run away. "Well, let's see how your little psychological evaluation goes when there's no lab rat to watch."

Click.

"_Day three hundred and thirty-nine. After months without word, I've finally found Victor. Or rather, I have been told where he is. He's staying in California with his grandmother. How he got there, I have no idea, but I'm grateful that he's all right. I'm confident that, after sufficient time to cool off, he will return to where he belongs. Until he does, the Cybernetics Prosthetics project has been placed on official hold. Unofficially, I look forward to this opportunity to test the project's post-release ramifications._

"_Mother informs me that Cyborg was in acceptable condition when he arrived. Tired, but able. I must admit, I am curious to know how he recharged himself while in-transit. He is eating and sleeping normally according to her descriptions. At my request, she has not told him that she contacted me._

"_Victor is apparently limiting himself to her domicile and yard for the moment. He is likely concerned with how the general public will react to his appearance. I admit, this is a concern we share. I little like the thought of Victor being treated as he was when he went to school. I've sent mother some money, despite her complaints, and with the understanding that she'll use some of it to buy him clothes. He hasn't needed them since the accident, but perhaps they'll help him integrate. I suppose we should have considered the use of clothes at a much earlier date. His current build is not an easy one to clothe._

"_The rest of the money will be to compensate for his egregious power needs. Mother described the recharging station he's created in her garage using ordinary appliances. It sounds crude, but effective. I…I wish I could see it for myself. It would be interesting."_

Click.

"_Day four hundred and one. It happened during one of those troublesome absences my mother kept telling me about. I told her not to worry, that all young men need their space. It seems I was wrong._

"_There was some sort of extraterrestrial incident in a place called Jump City. I understand it's not too far from where mother lives. Apparently, S.T.A.R. Labs even has a facility outside of the city. In any case, the incident involved some sort of space lizards. I watched it on the news._

"_It was the first time I'd seen him in months. He was incredible. I never dreamed he would adapt to the prosthetics so well. The news footage only caught him for a few seconds. An entire bus! Amazing! And then he just jumped into the fight, as though he had been doing it all his life. Incredible."_

Silas cleared his throat. "_Of course, I cannot condone what he is doing. He and those metahuman reprobates are building some sort of clubhouse off the coast. They're naming themselves after Greek myths and looking to pursue a life of costumed antics. Ridiculous. He's a Stone. He belongs to a higher calling._

"_Still…the bit with the bus was impressive, no doubt…_"

Click.

"_Day four hundred and fifty-two."_ Silas's thinning hair had succumbed to a shining baldness.White, wiry hair bulged from the sides, and above his eyes, under which heavy bags hung. He drooped in his chair. His gaunt shoulders vanished into a lab coat that had become too large.

"_I've taken a sample of the ET crash they discovered in the Southwest. There are some promising avenues to explore. What I'm trying to do will take mankind's understanding of nanotechnology into a whole new era. It may even blur the line completely between humanity and machinery._

"_I need to reach a breakthrough soon, before that boy kills himself._

_"I hate the news. I only watch nowadays for Victor. Once in a while the bloated monster destroyed our media catches a glimpse of his 'adventures.' He honestly must get his lack of sense from his mother, because I can't imagine understanding anyone who would do half the things he does."_

A tired smile lit his face. "_Elinore would have loved to see his antics. She understood that athleticism nonsense. He probably got that from her as well, come to think of it._"

Click.

The desk Silas normally sat at lay in ruins. Its carefully organized papers were scattered everywhere. Trinkets and awards lay in pieces. His computer had a letter opener jammed through its screen. Silas himself looked worse. His skin sagged, and his hair was all but gone. Unkempt beard consumed his chin.

"_Day five hundred and eight,_" he said with forced calm. "_My progress with the project has petered. I've reached a block, and no amount of testing or examination seems to be capable of circumnavigating it. For all intents and purposes, I've failed. And Victor..."_

Silas choked. "_I saw him on the news again today. He had taken down one of the Labs' rogue projects, the Artificial Tactical Light Assault System. Those idiots in California can't even program a robot properly. But Victor… He took it down singlehandedly. And when they interviewed him for the news…"_

A sob trickled through his voice. "_He was smiling. He was happy. And those friends of his…anyone could tell how proud of him they were. Victor is…my son is an honest-to-God hero. He saves lives. He saves so many people._

"_Why can't I save him?_"

Click.

Silas hunched over his desk. His thin arms trembled with the task of propping him up. His hair was gone. His face puckered disdainfully into the camera. Wrinkles creased his brow and lined his mouth.

"_Day five hundred and seventy-three. This will be my last entry. I've been terminated from S.T.A.R. Labs. 'Medical retirement' is what they're calling it. Feh. Those quacks that jab me with cold stethoscopes don't know the meaning of the word 'medical.'_

"_I failed. I'm a failure. There. I said it. The grief counselors tell me that honesty is important at the end. They're quacks as well. My life has been a waste, and my one accomplishment worth anything is just a mask for my own failings._

"_I lost my entire family in the space of one day, and reacted as poorly as I possibly could. Forty-six percent of Victor remained. Forty-six percent of my only remaining link to Elinore lay in my lab, dead and gone, resting in peace, and I couldn't let it go. So I turned it into one of my experiments."_

He looked down. Tears rimmed his eyes. "_I wish I'd left him dead. I wish I had died instead. Every day, I wish I had died, so those two could live._

"_I rationalized it a hundred different ways: I saved him; I furthered the field of cybernetics more than any other individual ever had; I was a hero. Lies, all of it. I had to keep that last piece of Elinore alive in him, even if I had to spit in the face of God himself to do it. . I made my own son into a mockery of life just so I would have something left."_

He sniffed, and ran a hand across his bald scalp. "_Elinore would hate what I've become. I've no doubt, because Victor already hates me. They both have every right to hate me. I'm a selfish old fool."_

Vicious coughing wracked Silas's chest. His whole body shook like it would fall apart. When he found his breath again, he said, "_I have no right to be, but I'm proud of Victor. I'm so proud. He suffered like no other human ever should. At first, I thought that suffering had made him stronger. It's only now, looking back, that I realize he had that strength all along. In the end, I'm just sorry he needs it._

"_Despite my best efforts, my final project has failed. They're already archiving the test material I took from the crash. It'll be in cold storage until Judgment Day. And Victor will be forever marked by my selfishness. He's more of a hero than I'll ever be just by holding his head high while he wears my sins._

"A _hero…_" Silas coughed and laughed in one breath. "_I am proud of Victor. I wanted to cling to the forty-six percent of a son I had left, and never let him go. I was such a fool. That forty-six percent is worth more than entire buildings full of people like me. My son is doing amazing things, and making more of a difference than I ever could. He's found people who care for him. He's found a place for himself._

"_Victor found a way to live after Elinore's death. I think I envy him for that. It's something I never figured out how to do. But I'm so proud of him. I have no right to be, but I'm so proud. So…_" His voice dissolved into another coughing fit that doubled Silas over. His haggard face disappeared behind the desk. The coughing worsened.

The screen went black. Cyborg found himself on the edge of his metaphysical seat. He had reached the end of the files. Frantic, he looked at the date of the last file.

Three days after that recording had been made, Cyborg had received notification of Silas Stone's death. He hadn't told anyone about his father. He had refused his grandmother's calls, and ignored her messages insisting that he fly with her to Metropolis for the services. Some small, petty part of Cyborg had felt satisfied at the old man's passing. He had been glad to finally be rid of the miserable man that had ruined his life.

Now he scrolled to the beginning of the files again, and he watched. He watched each day's entry, not just the few days he had skimmed before. He watched, and saw Silas age thirty years in less than two. The middle-aged scientist had wrinkled and balded like a raisin from the day Cyborg had finally ran away.

His father was proud of him. His father was proud of what he had chosen to do with his life, even if it meant he would never win a Nobel Prize. Silas Stone, a man who had yawned at his son's freshman all-state rushing record, was proud of him for being himself. To his dying day, he had thought his son was a hero.

Cyborg manifested a doorway next to his couch. He ran through it, hoping he wasn't too late.

* * *

The security cameras became his eyes again. Cyborg looked everywhere in the Labs at once. As luck would have it, Doctor Brown was just leaving Starfire's room. She jumped at the sound of his voice as he shouted her name through the holographic projector at Starfire's bedside.

"Victor? Is something wrong?" she asked, clutching her chest.

As he watched her enter the room, another of his cameras checked the room his body had been in. It was there still, dismembered as he remembered it being. They hadn't installed any new cybernetics yet.

"_You haven't built my new body yet, have you?_" he asked.

She stared, blinking. Then she shook her head. "Victor, we finished speaking about your new body only a second ago. I was just leaving to inform the project heads."

He checked the system clock. All that time, his entire file surfing episode, had lasted just one second? "_Don't turn me off again,_" he pleaded. "_I don't ever want to be turned off again. And don't build that plasti-derm whatever body. I don't want it._"

Brown blinked again. "But Victor, I thought we discussed this. Your remaining biomass…"

Cyborg's camera eye focused back on Starfire. She had given one hundred percent for the Titans. If she ever woke up, Cyborg knew she would give one hundred more without a moment's hesitation. Twenty-nine sounded like more than enough now.

"_I've still got plenty left in me, Doc,_" Cyborg told her.

**To Be Continued**

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Remember to drop a review or send an email if you like the story. I love hearing from you guys, and always love to know what you liked or didn't like! But especially the liked part. I have a huge ego.

Seriously, it's big.

Next week we're back with Tek and her totally trustable samurai companion. What wacky hi-jinx will ensue? Stay tuned to find out!


	6. New Order: Titans Aux

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**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

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**New Order**: _Titans Aux_

Down below in the alley, two combatants circled one another in fervent battle. One, a gleaming knight dressed in mail and a crucifixed tunic, swung his long spear with expert confidence. With handsome features and a sparkling smile he laughed, and struck without mercy.

His foe was a demon most foul. Though the demon walked as men do, and wore black slacks that clung to its muscular legs, it was clearly not of this world. Jagged black wings were strung from its ribs to its arms. Stubby horns jutted from its forehead at the edge of flowing, ashen white hair. Hot coals glowed in its sockets, narrowed fiercely at the knight.

Their grunts and shouts scraped the old brick of the buildings that boxed them in. They scarred the masonry and punched holes in a weatherworn dumpster, which bled garbage onto their battlefield. As they fought, two sets of eyes judged them from the rooftops.

Bushido leaned over the rim of the building in fascination of the knight down below. The young boy—fourteen at most—shook the air with a cry of havoc and leapt across the alley with a long spear, his red tunic billowing behind him. The demon howled as the spear grazed its ribs, drawing a dribble of magma down its side. Such a leaping attack would be difficult unencumbered, Bushido knew, but in full chainmail? The feat impressed even the accomplished swordsman.

"This is your candidate?" Bushido asked.

Next to him, Tek nodded. She, too, watched the knight do battle with the red demon. Its short black horns scraped noisily against another near miss, causing it to yelp and leap back. Another cut from the knight's spear pulled a roar from the demon's glowing maw. "He's the next one. His name's Eddie Bloomberg. He's new at this, so I don't think anyone's tapped him yet."

"Good. I would hate to have a repeat of the Dakota Hills embarrassment," Bushido said idly. He rested his chin in his hand on the building edge and watched the pair struggle for life and death.

A groan rattled Tek's chest. "Look, I said I was sorry. If I knew Static and Gear were League, I would have skipped them. I thought it would be a twofer."

Bushido smirked. "Your encyclopedia needs updating," he teased.

Tek smirked back. "Well, maybe next time I'll just stand back and look tough with an oversized butter knife instead of doing all the work," she suggested.

"Indeed."

"Fine."

With a cry, the demon raked its claws across the young knight's chainmail. Deific conflict sparked in the blow, which the knight rolled with and rounded to return. Flecks of brimstone sprayed from the demon's mouth as the knight's gauntlet crossed its face. It spun to the ground and scampered back on all fours, terrified of the spear advancing on its throat, and of the somber knight behind it. Fire flared from the demon's mouth, chasing back the knight.

Tek brushed shaggy hair from her eyes and watched the demon clamber back to its feet. "Looks like he could use some help," she said.

Bushido watched the knight brush embers from his tunic. It didn't look like he needed help. Nevertheless, Bushido shrugged, and then tilted off the building's edge. Using the narrow walls of the alley, he bounced down and rolled onto the pavement, landing between the combatants without warning either. One smooth motion drew the blade at his hip while smashing the demon's jaw with its hilt, knocking the demon into a tangle of limbs and tail.

Sprawled on its back, the demon tried to rise, but was slammed back to the ground and gagged with Bushido's boot on its throat. Bushido loomed over the demon, the tip of his blade pressed up under its chin.

"Please forgive the intrusion," Bushido asked of the knight, smiling at him without moving his blade an inch. His boot kept the demon choked and still. "I would normally loathe interfering in the battle of another. But demons aren't deserving of honor such as ours."

The knight shouldered his long spear with a grin. "God bless you, kind stranger," he said. "Might I know the name of such a hero?"

Bushido had to stifle a snort at the word "hero." "I am known as Bushido," he said, and nodded in place of a bow to keep his blade at the demon's throat.

"Kid Crusader," the young knight replied. His mail jangled as he bowed deeply. He approached the swordsman and stepped within reach of the demon without fear. When Bushido turned back to the demon, Kid Crusader drew a long, crucifix-handled knife from beneath his tunic. Its glistening blade reflected his grin at the sight of the helpless demon. "You came along just in time to help me purify this poor creature."

The pavement rattled with Tek's landing. Her armored form dropped right behind Kid Crusader, startling the young knight into dropping his knife. He turned, and then spun into the air at Tek's enormous backhand. The blow slammed him into the dumpster and bounced him to the ground. He groaned and fell limp.

Both Bushido and the demon stared in amazement of the armored girl's surprise attack. "Sorry," she said tinnily to them both. "I guess I should have been more specific. 'That's' Eddie," she said, and pointed to the demon.

When Bushido lifted his foot, a string of guttural sounds emerged from the demon's glowing mouth. He thought it was speaking in tongues, until it grasped its neck and began to cough. "Dude, what the heck?" the demon choked. It—_He_ climbed onto his bare, clawed feet and brushed the dirt from the bat-like wings under his arms. All the while, he stared scathingly at Bushido with his glowing eyes.

Bushido watched the demon uneasily. His sword remained unsheathed at his side. "This is the hero we came to recruit?" he asked Tek in confusion.

"Excuse me, Samurai Jackass. The name's Kid Devil. And if you guys are recruiters, I'd hate to see whatever nutso franchise you're working for," said the demon. He coughed, hacked, and spat up a phlegmmy wad of brimstone that sizzled on the ground. His glare quickly returned to the mismatched pair in white. "I suppose your secret handshake is punching each other in the throat. Man…"

A cry arose in the alley that made all three teens turn. "Heathens! Sinners!" bellowed Kid Crusader, who was back on his feet. He braced his spear beneath his arm and lowered himself to charge its deadly tip into Kid Devil's chest. "Let those who side against the word of our Lord be punished. Salvation is at hand!"

Kid Devil crouched with a grimace. He flexed his claws and readied himself for another tussle. But then Tek's broad, armored back slid between him and Kid Crusader. The mecha-clad girl stood idle as Kid Crusader's spear glanced off her chest without even scraping its white enamel. His follow-through made him run square into her. He may as well have chinned wall.

As Kid Crusader slumped off of Tek and into unconsciousness, her armor split open. The components disassembled in a ratcheting flurry and slid into a glowing portal in her back, which closed with a flash. Tek dropped to the ground and offered Kid Devil a lopsided smile. "Like I said, I'm really sorry about the mix-up. My name's Tek, and this is Bushido," she said.

Kid Devil forced his slacken jaw shut and shook her hand. "Uh, sure. No harm done, I guess. Sorry I got so pissed off. I was just on my way to Sunday service when Lord Jangle-Shirt the Pious here jumped me."

A blatant frown hung in Bushido's face as he sized up the demonic teen. Still, he sheathed his blade and offered Kid Devil a shallow bow. "Please forgive my misassumption, demon. I humbly apologize for attacking you."

Quirking his brow, Kid Devil drawled, "Yeah. And 'Eddie' will work fine now that I'm not on the clock. Sooo…you guys obviously know me, or you've heard of me. That's new. What brings you here? Animé convention in town?"

"We need your help," Tek said. "Bushido and I are looking for heroes like you. Like us. There's an emergency in Jump City, and we can't handle it alone."

He scoffed. "California? Yeah, um, 'no.' I used to live in L.A. Did the whole 'Cali' thing. That's why I'm here now, and not there. But hey, you're in luck. Jump's where the Titans live. I bet they'd love to help out a kung fu jerk and some kind of mini-Gundam. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get this asshole to jail, and then go explain to a pissed-off priest why I missed service. And believe me, he's already grouchy with me about the whole…y'know." He waved his hand vaguely over his body. Then he gathered the scruff of Kid Crusader's chainmail to drag his would-be savior to the nearest precinct.

Tek stepped to block him from the mouth of the alley. She pulled a yellow device from her belt and showed its embossed cover to him. "That's just it. We 'are' the Titans," she said.

Kid Devil stopped. He stared at the communicator's engraved 'T' and scratched his head. "Okay. Yeah, I think I'm gonna go with 'Huh?' on this one. If you're the Teen Titans, you're about two thousand miles' worth of confused right now."

"Jump City is in serious trouble, and so are the Titans." Tek said. She traded glances with Bushido, and then said, "That's why they sent me, I mean us, to recruit new members. For help."

"And your first stop is to pick me? Not that I'm not flattered, but are you stupid? I'm pretty new to this. I'm a nobody," Kid Devil said.

Tek opened her communicator. She thumbed a button on its side, and said, "You're not a nobody, Eddie. And you're not the first."

A trumpeting blast split the air in a very literal sense. From a billowing fissure grew a portal that chased Kid Devil back with surprise. A sulfurous gasp escaped his lips at four distinct figures emerging from the hole in the air.

First came a young woman with black and yellow stripes poured over her shapely frame. Her hair bounced in twin tufts pulled high on her head. Curved blasters clacked from a holster on the curve of her hip. Dark skin broke for a sparkling white smile. Dark eyes flashed at the demonic teen as she scoffed, and said, "Y'all finally found the fool?"

She was followed by another girl who was younger and shorter than she. At first he thought the next girl looked impossibly pale, an impression exacerbated by her black hair flared with red dye. But as Kid Devil watched her move, he realized that her skin wasn't white, but instead a powdery metallic color, almost reflectively so. She had squeezed herself into a black corset, a frayed red skirt, and fishnet stockings that would one day look flattering. Long leather gloves covered her to her elbows. "About bloody time," she grumbled in a thick Cockney accent. "Let's just leave us to scour the whole country, why don't you. Not like we have anything better to do."

Next emerged a boy younger even than Kid Devil. Blond hair curled around his scalp, framing a perpetual smile and haunting green eyes whose whites weren't white at all, but inky black. He wore jeans and a cheerful purple vest, and gave Kid Devil a wave. In his long years of hero worship and brief but heroic career, Kid Devil had never seen a less likely hero than this boy. If not for the blackness of his eyes and the thin scar across his neck, the boy wouldn't ever warrant a second glance.

Finally came the source of the reality-rending note: a tall, strong teen dressed in a blue tunic and a bluer cloak. He towered over the rest of them. He twirled a horn on his finger as he stepped out of the portal, which pinched shut behind him. An earnest smile shone from his rich complexion. Saluting with his horn, he asked, "That him? The red guy?"

Tek shrugged at Kid Devil, who gaped at the group in awe. "Is there maybe a place we could go to talk? Maybe grab a bite to eat? I don't know about you, but I'm famished."

* * *

The strangest table of patrons ever assembled at a local coffee house at Kid Devil's recommendation. Its owners knew and were friendly with the demonic teen after he had foiled a simple smash-and-grab there a few months back. They tolerated his noticeable "differences," well enough, but they and the other patrons couldn't help but stare at the six colorful teenagers squeezed into a single booth that was abuzz with introduction.

"So this skinny little white girl shows up to my club in Lincoln Park right as I'm taking a break between sets," the horn blower, Herald, recounted with a laugh. "She's dressed in that fetish bodysuit, and she's got an honest-to-God Karate Kid in tow. Almost blows my secret identity right then and there. I almost blasted her into dimensional limbo!"

Laughter rang around the table, loudest from Argent, the silvery girl in gothic rags. "At least they had you by the time they came for me. When I heard the report of a UFO crash landing in the Thames, I thought someone had gone stark raving. Imagine my surprise when an alien robot comes walking up onto the bank with two drowned rats!"

Bumblebee's laughter bobbed her hair tufts. "Y'all wanna talk about funny? Tek wore that iron lung of hers almost the whole time they were in Atlanta. Only time I saw her take it off, I thought she was gonna sweat herself into a mummy. The damn thing's air conditioned!"

They laughed again, Kid Devil, uneasily so. He looked around the table uncertainly. Glancing back, he saw Tek waiting at the counter for their orders. She was well out of earshot, especially with the curious murmurs of the coffee house's other patrons. He leaned in and asked, "So is this for real? That girl's really a Titan, and she's recruiting you all?"

Bushido nodded. He sat as far away from Kid Devil as the booth would allow. His sword was propped next to him against the table. "Correct. In light of the emergency gripping Jump City, the Titans have seen fit to expand their numbers through additional honorary memberships. I was the first, after Tek, of course."

"Hasn't been much on the news, what with all the ruckus between the Justice League and the UltiMen," noted Herald, "but from the looks of it, some new group of super villains has moved in, and the regular Titans are AWOL."

Kid Devil shifted uncomfortably. He had never fought against true super power apart from the minor holy items Kid Crusader employed against him. "And you guys are all on board with this? Just up and leaving to help some girl you don't know?" He glanced over at Tek again, who noticed his attention, and waved cheerily.

"Figure I'd come along and see the sights," Argent said. She sat next to Kid Devil, and glanced his way only when she thought he wouldn't notice.

Herald joined Kid Devil in examining Tek. Her large order had been filled. Now she fumbled with seven cups, trying to arrange them in her arms. The battle wasn't going well for her. "She needs a lot of help," Herald noted.

"S'why she's been bummin' rides with you for the last two weeks, picking up anybody who'll buy into her 'big emergency' speech," Bumblebee said to him.

Her airy tone lifted Bushido's eyebrow. "You doubt the danger of the villains in Jump City?" he asked testily.

Bumblebee leaned back and laced her hands behind her tufts. "Hey, don't get your sword in a twist, Bushy-Do. This gig ain't permanent. I'm just hopping along to pitch in. Besides, this could be my ticket to the big time. Once I'm a Titan, the League's bound to notice me. That's the majors, baby."

Bushido smiled thinly and stood up. "Well, we shall endeavor to expedite your journey to bigger and better things. Excuse me," he said.

Tek wavered with six cups balanced in her arms. The seventh slid from her fingertips and plummeted. Before she could finish her yelp, Bushido's deft hand swept the cup out of the air and to his lips. He took a sip, and said, "Would you care for some help?"

"Thanks," she said, abashed. The rest of her waxed paper cups settled back onto the counter. As they divided up the load, Tek looked past Bushido to watch her table of laughing recruits. A small smile of her own wormed into her features. "They're a good bunch," she said to no one in particular.

Bushido appraised the tableful over the rim of his cup, and said, "They certainly are an interesting group. But I imagine they will perform admirably enough against this 'Red X' and his hooligans. When do you plan on leaving for the city? Later today?"

The question erased Tek's smile. "No way," she said, and resumed her fumbling with the cups. "We don't have nearly enough yet. Lemmie take a look at the map, and we'll see where I ping next. We should get back to recruiting as soon as we can."

When she bent to lift the cups clutched to her chest, Bushido rested his hand on their lids, keeping her there. "Tek, we are running out of time," he told her. "We have been away too long as it is. There is no telling what havoc your villains have wrought in our absence. It is time to return."

"We're not ready. We need more…" Tek stammered.

With a gesture to the table, Bushido said, "Our numbers are already equal to those of the Titans at their fullest. We were ready before we stopped for the demon today. We are more than ready now. Why do you delay?"

She squirmed, pinned by his piercing gaze. "Because…because I've faced off against this gang, and I know what we're up against. I'll say when we're ready, and I saw we're not."

His eyebrow rose. "We? Or just you?"

Tek struggled to argue. She was saved when a nine-note tune played from her belt. Her hopes soared as she tore her communicator open, only to be dashed when she saw an automated alert instead of the call she had been waiting two weeks for. "It's an APB on the local police band. Cyborg must have designed these things to listen to local police scanners. It's a…"

Their argument paused, but not forgotten, Bushido leaned around to see. "A what?" he asked.

She couldn't believe it. "It's a special crimes alert. There's a daylight bank heist in progress. The perp's been identified as…Doctor Light. Doctor Light!" Shades of her smile returned.

"Doctor Light?" Bushido echoed.

Tek snapped her communicator shut and squealed, "This is perfect! Just what we needed." At Bushido's confused look, she explained, "Doctor Light is like a living litmus test for Titans. He's one of the first ones the Titans faced, and one of the first ones I faced too. He's just the thing to test ourselves against!"

His lips twisted. "But 'we' aren't ready, you may recall."

"I'll make you a deal, Mister Snarky Sword. If we can take down ol' Bulb Head without too much trouble, I'll think about us going back to Jump City."

"You 'will' go back," he amended.

"_If_ we're ready," she countered.

It was the best deal he would get, and he knew it. He stuck out his hand, and they shook on it.

Forgetting the coffee, Tek marched toward their table and belted out, "Titans!" Everyone in the coffee house looked around in confusion, most of all her band of recruits. "There's trouble downtown, just the kind of trouble we handle. I think this'll be a good team-builder," she said.

When she rattled off the intersection listed with the APB, Kid Devil nodded. "Sure. That's Wolfram and Soto. I have a savings account with them. Got a free sweatshirt out of the deal," the bare-chested demon said.

"Then lead the way. I'll give you details on the perp on the way there." She hesitated a moment, frozen by their quizzical faces. Then her chest exploded with a cry of, "Titans, go!"

The booth squeaked as the five young heroes scooted out and ran from the shop, piling through the jangling door. Bushido tossed a wad of bills onto the table before bolting after them. Tek watched them flash past the front window. It felt exhilarating, like she was watching a new chapter in hero history being written. The New Teen Titans…

Then, as they disappeared from sight, Tek remembered that she was supposed to be leading them. She rushed to the door, bounced off it, and then pulled it open, rubbing her nose. She raced after her team with a head full of excited strategy to use against their very first villain. "Titans, wait!" she called.

* * *

The interior of a highly-polished bank lobby glistened with the reflection of dozens of hard-light cages that contained the frightened patrons of Wolfram and Soto, the city's oldest and largest bank. Wrought-iron bars, a throwback to the Depression Era kept for sentimental reasons, had been torn from the teller windows by enormous hands composed of solidified photons. Tellers behind their now-exposed counter worked feverishly to fill sacks made of still more light with as much cash as they could.

A lone man conducted the luminous robbery with lazy gestures. His sneer seemed to be a permanent fixture of his face. Black and silver armor framed his wiry body. It whirred faintly of technology, and was adorned with depictions of light bulbs. His bushy brows knit into one as one teller, a frightened young man, spilled wads of bills from his shimmering bag.

Deadly light pulsed in the armored man's glove, which he thrust menacingly at the teller. "Careful with that cash, or your future won't look so bright," he snarled. The teller yelped and heaped more money into the sack.

In moments, Doctor Light's sacks were filled to bursting. He smiled as he commanded the bulging bubbles of light to him, and merged them together into one grand retirement fund that floated above him. To the huddled prisoners in his cages, and the one elderly guard he kept pinned to the wall, he tipped his helmet, and said, "Thank you all for your contributions. You're all truly shining examples of generosity. But I really must be going, so…"

As he crossed the glimmering tile, the bank's glass double doors burst inward. He stumbled back, startled by seven gawky figures all squeezing through as each attempted to be first into the lobby. One, the thin brunette in a blue bodysuit, popped through as thought the pressure had shot her from her comrades. She stumbled, and then caught herself against a marble pillar. Her tiny chest puffed at the baffled bank robber.

"It's time for lights out, loser!" Tek announced with a vicious stab of her finger.

The colorful door-jam behind her exploded into six separate heroes that sprawled onto the floor. Bumblebee landed furthest, knocking into Tek's legs and making her collapse onto older girl. "What was that?" Bumblebee asked of the unarmored girl lying on top of her.

"It's, uh, banter," Tek said. "Don't you banter with your villains?"

"Yeah, but I guess I'm just better at it," Bumblebee said.

Deadly radiance surrounded Doctor Light. He culled his weapons from the cages holding his prisoners. As the bars around them dissipated, they screamed and ran to the far edges of the room. For every cage he dismantled, Light grew stronger, rising into the air upon a swirling, silent maelstrom of his namesake. "I don't know who you are, but you're obviously not very bright," he announced.

The tangle of teenagers sorted itself out and rose from the floor. Glances were exchanged and grumbles were curbed as they set their sights on the man glowing in the air above them. Once more thrust to center stage, Tek stepped forward. Her hair stirred at the edge of Light's maelstrom, which bathed her skin in warning warmth. Now faced with a real threat, this dry run didn't seem as good an idea to her as it had in theory. Any confidence she mustered was purely for show. "You're done now, Doc. You better surrender, or the Teen Titans are gonna, um, beat you up!"

Doctor Light's confusion flourished. He glanced from the red-faced demon to the disdainful swordsman to the curly-haired blond in purple. "Are they on their way?" he asked.

"We're the Titans!" Argent shot testily.

"So give up now, or…well, just give up now," added Kid Devil.

Blue light joined the golden storm swirling in the lobby as Tek's back opened and swallowed her in a swarm of white components. Metal meshed into hulking, powerful armor around her body. She clanged her enormous fist into her palm in a menacing gesture, feeling anything but menacing. "So," she added, her voice resonating from the grille beneath her visor, "are you coming quietly…?"

"…or in pieces?" asked Herald.

Light's eyes narrowed on the robotic armor below. Recognition deepened his sneer. "You, I remember," he said. "You may have defeated me last time, but I assure you, I'm far more powerful than you or any number of brats could ever hope to overcome."

His hands flared.

"Titans, go!" Tek bellowed.

…and was knocked clean aside as Kid Devil bounced past her with a roar. His white hair ribboned behind him in a spectacular leap that carried him up at Light's feet. Were he to reach Light, his claws would have cut open Light's armor like so much tin foil. Unfortunately, he hadn't seen Bumblebee.

Bumblebee had shrunk to miniscule proportions, almost to that of her namesake. Gossamer wings sprouted from her back, carrying her in a buzz. She drew her bee blasters, the curved weapons on her belt, and let loose with twin stings guaranteed to knock Light's face and body into different voting districts. But mutual zeal had put Kid Devil in line of her snap shots. Her yellow blasts caught the small of his back and threw him through the teller counter on the far side of the lobby. He disappeared in a blast of heavy oak and tile.

The vortex from Argent's aerial charge blew Bumblebee aside. Argent powered through the air at Light with sparkling silver eyes. That same silver energy pooled in her open hand. When she gripped it, the energy sprang into an impossibly long staff. Her weapon swung as if weightless, but it was still substantial. Jericho discovered that when Argent's backswing cracked his head and flung him into unconsciousness, and then into the wall.

A portal appeared by Light with a trumpeting shout. Herald leapt from the portal, his foot sailing ahead of him in a kick that would relieve Light of his teeth. Instead, Herald caught the other end of Argent's swing and suffered the same fate as Jericho. He flew under Light and smashed a heavy desk that exploded with brochures.

Before Argent could manifest a new weapon, the air around her crackled with flame. Light's aura hardened against the fiery onslaught pouring up from the floor. He even seemed to draw strength from the flames' brightness. Somewhat more vulnerable, Argent yelped and drew a bubble of silver around her. Her concentration broke, and she fell to the floor, where her shield cratered the tile.

The source of the fire stemmed and emerged from the hole in the tellers' counter. Kid Devil licked the last of the flames from his lips. Then he heaved a groan at the unshaken Doctor Light. "Seriously? Nothing?" he groused.

Two more stings flashed from Bumblebee's blasters. Their brightness fed the maelstrom around Light. Their impact curved around him, guided by luminous forces, and fell toward the tellers' counter. Kid Devil caught the stings in his chest this time and crashed back out of sight. In the meantime, the power added to the maelstrom made it swell. The swirling light swept tiny Bumblebee aside and tossed her into one of the lobby's tall, cheery windows, where she struck hard and stuck to the glass.

Doctor Light looked around. His confusion had faded into curiosity as he saw five of these self-acclaimed Titans struck down by their own attacks. He had yet to move. Tek and Bushido hadn't even had time to join the fray. He stared down at the pair and shrugged.

Biting back her groan, Tek scooped up Bushido in her massive hands. "Bushido, alley-oop!" she told him.

Bushido tried to ask, "What are you doing?" and got half a syllable out before he found himself hurtling straight at Light. Yelping, he swept his arm out on instinct. Shuriken spilled from his sleeve. Light acknowledged the attack by vaporizing the wave of metal stars with a flick of his hand. Then he drew a thick whip out of his aura and lashed into Bushido. Helpless in the air, Bushido felt the thick whip bludgeon his stomach like a pipe. He sailed back and plunged into the far wall. It was only pure fortune that sank him into drywall instead of a stud, leaving him dazed and alive.

Staccato bolts of plasma hammered Light's shields from the guns in Tek's forearms. She barreled forward, breaking tile with each step, and pummeled Light with her gunfire. Light could absorb the bolts' brightness but their heat and force chipped away at his protection. Slowly but surely, she drove him higher, consuming his strength in increments.

With a snarl, Light drew upon every lumen in the lobby. Money precipitated the room as the grand bag above him dissolved into its base element and flowed into him. Light gathered his namesake into a writhing mass that blocked Tek's gunfire. He shaped the mass into a claw, which shot down and swallowed Tek in its grasp.

Warning lights filled Tek's HUD. Klaxons rang in her helmet. She didn't need either to know the danger around her. The comforting support of the armor's interior became squeezing, then suffocating, as metal groaned all around her under intense pressure. She whimpered and gasped, unable to draw breath. Her ribs creaked noisier than the collapse of her armor. As her heart raced with panic, she felt her monster stir beneath her skin, hungry for control in the desperate moment.

Light hovered over her, cackling as the luminous claw mimicked his clenching fist. Sparks jetted from Tek's armored joints. Her visor cracked like a gunshot, fracturing into a webbed scowl. "Feeling a bit lightheaded, my dear? But you seemed so sunny a moment ago," he jeered.

Three tiny orbs flew into Light's chin. His aura stopped the orbs from striking him, leaving them to detonate inches from his face. The air swam with acrid black smoke that scraped Light's lungs. He coughed, losing his concentration. His gigantic light claw dissolved. Tek fell to the floor, broken and immobile, shattering the tile with her heavy impact.

Bushido drew another handful of smoke pellets and hurled them at Light. Even with the stirring Jericho slung over his shoulder, his aim was impeccable. "Bumblebee, grab the demon. Argent, you must lift Tek, no one else can. Herald, we need an escape," he called through the thickening air.

Argent clumsily entombed Tek's armor in silver from the confines of her own crater. Behind her, Bumblebee grew into a staggering young woman who dug Kid Devil from the counter's wreckage.

As Bushido hobbled forward, he saw Herald rise out of a pile of brochures. Blood trickled from a bruise at his temple. His eyes were glazed. "I don't know if I—"

Bushido saw the smoke overhead being chopped apart by blades of light. Bumblebee coughed her way through the smog, dragging Kid Devil by his pointed tail. Next to her came Argent, whose face contorted as she hefted an enormous silver coffin. He broke the strap of Herald's horn and shoved the proper end into his mouth. "Quickly, please," Bushido said.

With a shaky breath, Herald pointed his horn straight down. A garbled note broke the ground into a portal that spread beneath them. Those teens still conscious cried out as they fell into a swirling nexus. Their screams vanished behind the closing portal.

Blinking away smoky tears, Doctor Light watched his erstwhile foes disappear into the floor. He hacked. Then he grinned. To the few huddled victims who still hadn't run under cover of chaos, he crowed, "And let it be known that all fools who dare oppose Doctor Light will suffer the same fate! Now, help me collect my money…or suffer the same fate!"

The patrons wailed in fear and began heaping the strewn money into shimmering sacks as fast as Light could manifest them.

* * *

Another portal spat the pile of heroes onto the rooftop of an apartment complex some eight blocks away. They fell into a clothesline draped in clean sheets and became a singular tangle of limbs and linen. Gradually, they sorted their body parts from the tangle and separated into seven distinct teenagers of varying degrees of ire.

Bumblebee threw a sheet from her face, revealing a scowl beneath her frazzled hair. "Well, that was just great. Nice job, y'all."

"Us?" Herald's pained face lost its jaw to shock. "You're the one who went nuts and blasted Kid Satan!"

"Kid **Devil**," the beleaguered demon groaned.

A leather glove swept a pile of sheets aside to reveal angry, sparkling gothic features. "Well, you weren't much of a boon either, Little Boy Blue. You must be loony, jumping into my line of fire like that!" snapped Argent.

Jericho clapped and pointed heatedly at Argent. He scowled and rubbed the lump buried in his curls.

"Your line of…you are some piece of work, Limey," Herald grunted.

Bushido knelt next to Tek's still armor. He rapped her cracked visor, trying to peer past it. "Perhaps now is not the best time…" he said.

Shoving Argent aside, Bumblebee marched forward and thrust her face into Jericho's pointing finger. "Oh, don't y'all even start! I didn't see you do anything besides faint. Why are you even here, Goldilocks? You supposed to be our caddy, or something? Nobody's seen you do **anything** so far!"

Jericho stood at once. His bouncing curls only came up to Bumblebee's nose, but he thrust his chin at her with defiance enough for two Bumblebees, and lifted his arms as if to box her. His black and green eyes shimmered.

Sneering, Bumblebee rolled up the sleeves of her leather uniform. "Okay, let's go. I'm gonna put a sting so far up your ass, you'll think you're a goddamn honeycomb!"

"Hey!" barked Kid Devil, as he waved off Argent's helping hand. "Watch the blasphemy!"

A snort escaped Bushido. "A charming notion, considering its source," he muttered.

"Lay off him, Ninja Rick!" snapped Argent. "I didn't see your big knife and footie pajamas save the day!"

He rose from Tek's side in a single smooth motion. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Terrible danger lurked in his placid face. "Never call me 'ninja,'" he said.

The rooftop devolved into angry shouts and pointed fingers so vehement that it masked Tek's awakening. Sparks fizzled from her joints as her armor separated into components. Metal scraped the rooftop as the armor struggled into the aperture on her back. When it closed, Tek found herself staring up at the flapping end of a broken clothesline. Five voices shouted all around her. A single voice shouted louder inside her. It fed off her lingering fear, and it gobbled the angry words flying overhead. She felt her monster surge, and she staggered to her feet as if to run.

Her recruits still hadn't noticed her. Bumblebee folded her arms in the face of Argent's latest accusation. "Look, the Titan chick said to go, so I 'go'ed,' okay? I can't help it if you assholes get in my way," she said.

"Yeah, you're a right genius at 'goading,' I can tell," Argent spat.

Bushido stepped between them, separating them with swishing sleeves. "Enough of this. We have not yet heard from our leader," he said.

The rooftop quieted at once. With their argument stilled, the six teens heard the whisper of the wind, and the flap of the sheets, and above all, a rattling noise emanating from Tek's clasped hands. She looked up in surprise, yelping and fumbling. A small brown bottle fell and opened at her feet, spilling over with round white pills.

A communal gape worked its way through Tek's recruits. Bushido found his voice first, and asked, "Tek, what is…what are those?"

She fell to her knees, raking the pills back into the bottle. "It's nothing," she stammered. "These…they keep me calm, is all."

Bumblebee threw her hands in the air. "That's great. That's just frikkin' great. I bust my butt to help out the Kiddy League, and the second stringer they send me winds up being a junkie. Good call, Karen. Why not run some errands for a local bookie while you're at it?"

"Are…are those drugs?" Kid Devil asked.

"Real quick, Satanator," muttered Herald.

Bushido grasped Tek's hand, preventing her from hiding the bottle back in her belt. He forced her eyes to his, checking her pupils. "Is this why the Titans fired you? he demanded.

"What?" exploded Bumblebee.

Jericho clutched his hair and stared agog at the paling Tek.

Argent pulled her communicator from its hook on her skirt and thrust it at Tek. "Are you telling me that this whole mission of yours is a load of piss? You're not even a real Titan?" she demanded. Silver ire crackled from her eyes.

"I ran away to help you!" wailed Herald. "Do you have any idea how angry Mother Superior is gonna be when I get back? Why did I even agree to this in the first place? I must be out of my mind!"

Bumblebee again pushed up the sleeves of her uniform. "That's it. Warm up that horn of yours, Blue Boy. I'm gonna beat her until I feel better, and then you're sending me home."

Bushido stood in her way with outstretched arms. "No. You cannot leave. Regardless of her deception, the danger Tek described in Jump City is real, and your help is still required," he said.

Narrowing her eyes, Bumblebee growled, "You saying you were in on this, Bushy-Do?"

"What danger?" shouted Kid Devil. "I've been on this stupid team for forty minutes, and nobody will tell me anything!"

A flash erupted between distant downtown buildings. Rumbling followed the flash, making the building beneath them quake. As more flashes came, the teens heard sirens sing in the distance. Tek stared into the light from around her hand shielding her eyes. She watched the shadows around them jump with the spillover of the distant battle. Her monster yowled through her, rattling her to the core.

"**SHUT UP**!" Tek screamed.

The dumbstruck heroes rounded on Tek with fresh astonishment. She shoved them aside and marched to the edge of the building, where she peered over in search of something. Her eyes burned furiously, and her brow knit deep. None of her new comrades had ever seen the slip of a girl like this.

"Tek, what are you doing?" Bushido asked tentatively.

Tek continued to scour each side of the building. "Everyone go home," she grunted.

"Um…what?" Herald asked, blinking.

"Go home," Tek shot. "Get out of here, all of you."

Bumblebee cocked her fists on her hips. "You can't be serious. _You're_ firing _**us**_?" she shot.

It was the wrong thing to say. Tek whirled around and stomped at Bumblebee with an upraised finger and a face teeming with rage. Both bigger and stronger, Bumblebee nevertheless faltered at Tek's timid face twisted so furiously. "You know what? Screw you all! The Titans aren't some stepping stone, or some charity case, or a sightseeing tour, or a clubhouse," she said, weighing four of her five newer recruits' gazes with shame. "In fact, none of you have any idea what they're about. This was a stupid idea. No one here is good enough to be a Titan, including me."

Bushido began, "You—"

"Shut **up**!" Tek screamed in his face, threatening to crack his placid expression. "I am so sick of your know-it-all crap! And I'm sick of running around pretending to be what I'm not. I'm done with this, and I'm done with **these**—"

She hurled her bottle of pills over the edge of the building. The bottle vanished into the alley below, landing with a plunk of plastic on concrete.

"—and I'm done with **you**!" she spat at her recruits. "I've had enough. I'm going to end this once and for all. Thanks for nothing, all of you!"

Panting, red-faced, Tek stormed from the group to the one edge of the building she hadn't checked. She found what she'd been looking for there, a fire escape clinging to the building side. Without a single look back, she hopped down and out of sight, clamoring down metal stairs.

One by one, her recruits pulled out their communicators. They tore their eyes from the spot she had disappeared and looked down. Each communicator glinted in the distant flash of Doctor Light's attack. The 'T' emblazoned on each device reflected their downcast expressions.

"I know she's kind of a bitch," Herald muttered, "but does anyone else get the feeling that we messed up? Just a little bit?"

"You guys do kinda suck," Kid Devil drawled.

Jericho nodded.

The silence dragged on a moment longer. Then Argent quietly asked, "So what are we gonna do about it?"

* * *

Laughter rang through the street as Doctor Light upended his third police blockade. Police cruisers flipped high over the heads of the officers formerly crouched behind them. Higher above the arcing cars, Light cackled. "Flee, pathetic specks! Flee! Light now spills over your city. Let those who cannot bear my radiance be burned away!"

This city filled Light with a feathery tingle of exhilaration. Its police weren't equipped to deal with someone of his magnitude. No self-proclaimed do-gooders could stand against him and stop him from taking what was his by right of power. The closest he had come to such an annoyance was that asinine encounter with those children claiming to be Titans. So long as he stayed off the League's radar, his new armor's power would let him do as he pleased.

And look at the people run! He watched gleefully as his roiling tendrils of light smashed buildings, crushed cars, and rained terror upon the pitiful citizenry caught on the street. He threw back his head for a hearty laugh.

A flash against his radiance opened his eyes and closed his guffaw. An empty aluminum can bounced off his aura, stopped inches from his face. Light's scowl tracked the can's trajectory back to its source. His sneer refreshed at once. "You," he said.

Tek hefted a glass bottle she had commandeered from a nearby garbage can. Panicked people buffeted her as they fled away. She dug in her heels and remained, keeping her glare aimed high while the human sea rushed around her. She was certain that Light could see her hysterical heart beating against the thin material of her bodysuit, even from so high up. But she made her voice brave anyway. "Me," she shouted back over the din of the stampede.

The last of the crowd herded away as Light lowered himself to the street. By the time his feet touched ground, it was just he and Tek, squared off a dozen paces from each other in the empty street. Noonday sunlight poured straight down, feeding Light's aura, making Tek sweat. As she grew stickier, he grew stronger.

"Child, you must be terribly dim to challenge me again. And without your friends?" he said.

The bottle spun absently in her hand. "You know, I was gonna come up with something witty to say, but you're not worth it. You suck, Light," she snapped at him. She heaved the bottle with a grunt.

Light didn't even blink when the bottle shattered against the aura over his face. Her insult filled his smirk as the bright day filled his hands. Brighter and brighter, his palms welled with hot, white power. The buildup shook his hands as he brought it before him. Tek squinted into the killing blow he cupped. Only his vile expression remained visible above the impossible radiance.

"Titans, glow," he called mockingly.

Tek clenched her fist at her sides. She lifted her chin and shut her eyes, feeling tears squirm from beneath her lids. Her monster thundered in her legs, demanding that she run, that she charge Light and tear him to pieces. Her whole body quaked with the effort of restraining its raw, throbbing hate. She refused to move. She refused to even look. "C'mon," she whispered. "Do it."

A bellowing note rang the instant before Light hurled his killing stroke. The stream of light burned into a purple portal that blossomed between the two foes. Both Tek and Light staggered back in surprise as the portal swallowed his attack.

Light began to bellow a question. He never finished, because a hammer composed of pure silver energy flew past Tek and struck his aura. The blow unseated him from the ground and threw him into the air, where yellow bolts and a stream of fire blasted him high and far.

When Tek turned, she felt her eyes well with relief. Argent stood in front of another portal, freeing her hands from her dissipating hammer. Herald leaned against the portal's shimmering edge, his blue tunic ruffled in its swirling edge, his face smug. As Argent emerged, the portal closed, revealing four more faces waiting behind it.

"Need a hand, love?" quipped Argent.

"What are you guys doing here?" Tek cried delightedly. Remembering herself, she wiped her eyes and cleared her throat, and coolly added, "Um, didn't I fire you? Kinda meanly?"

"You did. From your crappy team," Bumblebee said, and cocked her hips.

"But we decided we still might wanna be our own team," added Kid Devil.

With a playful spin of his horn, Herald noted, "Thing is, we're not very good at it."

Argent crossed her arms. "We figured we could use someone who could give us a few pointers on the subject."

Jericho grinned.

Stepping around the pack, Bushido clasped his hands and bowed. His eyes twinkled through the dark hair spilling into his face. "Would you happen to know of anyone available?" he asked impishly.

Tek had to wipe her eyes again. A light feeling flooded her chest, silencing even the bitter voice of her monster. She returned Bushido's bow and doubled his smile on her face. "I'm glad you guys came back," she said.

Snorting, Bumblebee slapped her bare back, knocking her halfway over. "Like we'd let you get away with saying all that?"

A howl preceded a flash down the block. Doctor Light had found his footing again, and now brought his namesake to bear against the assembled teens. Luminous wind swept the street with blinding heat. Windows broke in waves. Car alarms squalled as vehicles around them buckled and crashed. The very pavement grew stick and melted beneath their feet.

Argent swept a silver screen in front of them to buffer the light wave. In the momentary shelter, Tek saw six pairs of eyes turn to her, each set edged with expectation. Fear lumped in her throat, shoved there by her monster, who demanded control with a furious yowl that rattled her brain. She swallowed both lump and monster, and ignored the churning in her stomach.

"Okay," she said to steady herself. "This is gonna be tough. Last time I faced Light, it was dark outside. I guess he's more powerful in the daytime. That makes sense. I guess I should have figured that out. Plus, he's got new armor—"

"I nailed him back there. Pretty sure I can do it again," Argent growled through gritted teeth. Sweat beaded on her brow as she clutched her silver dome, separating them all from the luminous storm that tore apart the street outside. The closer Light drew to them, the deeper her scowl became, and the louder her breath whistled from her nose.

Bumblebee snorted. "Please. This sucker needs a dose of Vitamin Bee," she said, drawing her blasters.

"Or, we could hit him with something that'll actually hurt," Kid Devil suggested. "How about hellfire?"

Herald scoffed. "Clear some room, and I'll send this guy packing into another dimension."

Tek's gaze traveled her recruits, ignoring their eager banter. She stopped on smiling Jericho, who was half-hidden behind the others. Her strategy solidified at once. "Jericho, you're our lead on this one. Think you can take him out?"

Loud disbelief worked through the rest of the group, loudest of all from Bumblebee. "What? Goldilocks? He doesn't even have a power!"

"You would be surprised how little that matters," Bushido said softly.

Tek kept her gaze focused on Jericho. She felt her innards tingle as he stared back for a long second. He nodded at her.

The light storm around them intensified. Argent sank to her knees, feeding everything she had into the translucent silver encapsulating them. Paint lines peeled from the road around them. Pavement began to bubble beneath Light's approach. "Spin it on, please," she hissed.

The chatter in the bubble quieted at Tek's gesture. She glanced around at their uncertain faces and bit her lip. "Guys, you need to trust me. I know I've messed up, and I sorta lied to you about some stuff. And I'm not exactly the ideal—"

"Skip it," Herald said.

With a half-second of hesitation, Bumblebee said, "Yeah. If you think Goldilocks is the one for this job, then let's do it. We've got your backs."

"What she said," Kid Devil said.

Bushido locked eyes with Tek. He nodded once. "We're with you."

Gasps wheezed in and out Argent's mouth. Light was only a few feet away now. His sneer pierced their bubble. He raised his hands, which flared brilliantly. "Will you bloody just do it already?" snapped Argent.

Tek nodded. She pulled herself upright, staring down the mad doctor through Argent's waning dome. Sparks spilled around her as she summoned her damaged armor to her skin. "Remember, we do this together. Go!" she shouted.

Argent's dome swirled and expanded. The silver energy dissipated into a wave that pushed Light back through the melting street. Twin furrows trailed behind his feet as he slid to a halt, lowering his arms to reveal his scowl. When he looked again, he did not find the hapless prey he had been stalking just a second ago.

Tiny Bumblebee darted through the air, putting herself between Light and Argent, who had collapsed against Tek in exhaustion. Bumblebee's blasters spat golden stings that fizzled against Light's aura. Whatever force her stings carried could not over come the luminescence flowing around Light. But she flew anyway, buzzing around him, blasting him with everything she had. "Let's light it up, Doc!" she yelled.

A glowing net sprang from Light's hand. Bumblebee screamed as the net enveloped her and swung her into the street. The impact made her grow again. Wingless and helpless, she crouched beneath the net on the smoking street and watched Light step down from the air.

Brilliance pooled in his hand. "Poor little bug," he said with a sneer.

She grinned back at him through the gaps in his net. "You're not too bright," she said.

Kid Devil rose up behind Light, his wings spread beneath his arms, his eyes and mouth ablaze. "This'll brighten things up!" he said, and grasped either side of Light's aura. The villain yowled at the flaming shout Kid Devil poured over his head. Fire consumed them both, severing the net that held Bumblebee. She yelped and scampered from the pillar of fire.

Light fortified his aura and clapped a hand over Kid Devil's mouth. The steam of fire squirted between his fingers. It stopped as Light forced his jaw shut. Kid Devil yanked on Light's arm, but the villain had too much power. A long, muffled curse trickled through Light's fingers while his other hand formed a blade out of his golden maelstrom.

His grin returned, and then fled just as quickly at the glimmer of silver he saw past Kid Devil's billowing hair. Argent was back on her feet and cupping a pile driver's worth of energy. "Here's a light bulb to clue you in, bud," she cried, and unleashed a column of silver.

Argent's smirk fell into panic as Light swung Kid Devil around, forcibly interposing the demon with her silver lance. Kid Devil's eyes flared at the silver energy careening at his head, which Argent yanked too late to try and redirect. He shut his eyes and tensed against the impending impact.

A long, pure note's blare made him look again. The tail end of Argent's energy vanished into a wavering portal that pinched itself shut right in front of Kid Devil's face. He sighed in relief, and then wrapped his tail around Light's leg.

Anger twisted Light's face. His sneer split to curse the horn blower perched atop the hood of a nearby car. A grunt came out instead when a second portal opened next to him and unleashed the rogue silver blast meant for him. Light staggered at the blow, and then flipped when Kid Devil leapt away, yanking the villain's leg with his tail.

"Thanks," Argent and Kid Devil called together. Herald tossed them both a smile.

As Light stumbled, momentarily stunned, a white shape zigzagged behind him. When it rounded to face him, the shape coalesced into Bushido, who brought his katana across Light's eyes. No blade could hope to pierce the luminous swirl surrounding Light, but the villain had to flinch at the flash the blade drew form his aura.

Light spun away, wiping the spots from his vision while Bushido dropped into a crouch and sheathed his blade. "Is it beginning to dawn on you, Light?" he called after Light.

The last of the spots faded from Light's eyes. He opened them, and saw Tek barreling at him. Pavement sprayed behind her steps as she ran into a leap that knocked her and Light into the air. Her hulking armor wrapped around Light and his aura, bending the light around him with impossible strength. Their combined weight threw Light off balance and, together, he and his five hundred pound metal leach spun into the sky.

"Didn't I already tell you? It's time for lights out!" Tek shouted, pressing her grille into his face.

The swirling aura beneath her crept around Tek. Her armor creaked as Light fought pressure with pressure. Her shout became a groan that was lost in the shrieking collapse of the alloy around her. Sparks and fluids sprayed from her joints as Light pulled away, holding her in the air with tendrils of his aura.

"Enough playing, fool!" Light snarled. "Now you pay for this indignity!"

"N-no," Tek grunted, fighting her hyperventilating urges as her armor entombed her. "Now Jericho does his thing."

Before Light could ask, a blond head of curls popped around Tek's shoulder. Jericho had been clinging out of sight on Tek's back the entire time. Now he wrapped his arms around Tek's neck. When Light glanced at him, he met the villain's eye. His smile grew sly.

Contact.

Jericho's entire body dissolved into flesh-colored smoke that swirled over Tek and poured into Light's eyes. Light reeled back with a scream. Mashing his eyes shut did nothing. The smoke poured between his lids until all of it disappeared into him. He blinked hard and clawed at his face, panting with panic. Tek fell out of his aura's grasp. She plummeted through the street while he felt at his face for the bizarre smoke.

He felt fine. Whatever the boy had done to him, it hadn't worked. He was rattled, but otherwise unharmed, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that—"

Doctor Light's aura disappeared in a flash, dissipating into the air. He wobbled, and then dove toward the street. His scream cut the air as he tucked his arms to his sides to streamline his descent. He made no attempt to catch himself with his powers, even while he watched the street rush up at boggling speed.

"What's happening? NO!" Light screamed.

Bushido sprinted with his sword swept behind him and his eyes narrowed upon the falling Light. He vaulted off the cratered heap of armor Tek had become upon landing and met Light in the air. Twisting in midair, Bushido swung his heel in a full circle that ended after Light's jaw, combining forces to launch Light sideways into the side of a parked car. Light vanished through the door with a metallic crunch and a spray of broken glass.

The street echoed with that final blow, and then fell into uneasy silence. One at a time, the recruits joined Bushido outside of the puckered sedan. They stared into the car, tensed, their powers and weapons poised. Even the air hardly stirred.

Gradually the young swordsman relaxed. He glanced to the others and shared in their shrugging. "It is just as well. I was out of jokes," he said.

"You guys call those train wrecks 'jokes?' I've heard better stuff from comedy club janitors," a shaky voice called from inside the car. The recruits brought their idioms to bear on the battered villain wriggling out of the hole he had punched in the car. He slumped onto the ground with a grunt. Five distinct flavors of danger hovered above him. A nervous grin split his goatee. "Um, guys, it's me. Jericho," Light stammered.

The sparking pile of armor in the street scraped into a blue flash. The unencumbered Tek stood up in her own crater and cried, "Don't smush him! It is Jericho." Then she swayed and clutched her head. The world around her doubled and spun. "Woo boy," she muttered.

Herald squinted at Light. The villain dragged himself upright against the car and clutched his head. His grin looked too familiar to belong to the villain. But even for a jazz musician who traversed dimensional borders, this seemed too bizarre to be real. "You're kidding me. This bozo was smacking us around not two seconds ago," he snapped.

Light brushed pieces of car from his armor. He snorted and straightened his dented helmet. "Believe me, if I could figure out how his powers worked… I think they're all in the armor. What a goofball." He glanced down at Argent, whose silver retaliation roiled in her palms. "Hey, cutie, c'mon. Give the light show a rest. He's knocked out right now. I'm in the driver's seat."

Glancing over to Kid Devil, Argent muttered, "Can we blast him anyway?" The demonic boy snickered, and both of them lowered their guard.

The fleshy smoke erupted from Light's eyes. He twitched and fell as the smoke congealed an instant later into the slight boy it had been originally. Jericho regained his shape just as Tek staggered up to join the rest of her team. She nearly fell, but Bushido's deft hand kept her upright.

"Would you care for some help?" he asked her.

Tek's smile threatened to split her face. "Thank you," she said. She looked to the rest of them, and said it again. "Thank you, all of you. You were great. And Jericho, you were amazing!"

"Who knew you had it in you?" Bumblebee said, and slapped Jericho hard on the back, nearly knocking him over. "Nice job, Goldilocks."

Jericho grinned, and slapped her back.

Troubled faces appeared in the storefronts and building windows at the battlefield's edge. The sudden stillness drew the city's citizenry to the street, where they stared in wonder like hesitant deer. They stared in wonder at the horrible threat lying fetal at the teenagers' feet. Tek stared back with twice their wonder and listened to the crowd's murmur burgeoning into excited shouts.

"Is that the Justice League?"

"I don't see a Javelin."

"No, they're too young."

"They don't look so young."

"Who are they?"

"Kid heroes…"

"Are those Titans?"

"The Titans are here?"

Tek asked herself that very question as the crowd began to cheer and clap. Thunderous applause struck her dumb. She reeled back, only to be caught by the rest of her team.

"Wow," Kid Devil said, waving tentatively at the cheering crowd. "People who don't yell and scream for bad reasons. I could get used to this."

"You'd better," Herald said, raising his horn in triumph as if to conduct the cheers around them. "Once we're honest-to-goodness Titans, we'll be hearing plenty of it."

Tek blinked and looked around. "You…you mean, you'll really come back with me? Even after I lied?" she asked.

"Don't make a big deal out of it. Besides, it's not like we had a choice after that big show you put on for us," Bumblebee said.

"Um…what?"

"Your grand display," Bushido said. "When you returned alone to face Light. You sought to inspire us to put aside our selfishness and follow, yes?"

She frowned, and then quickly adopted a smile that was just barely skin-deep. "Oh, yeah. Totally. After all, a good leader has to lead by example. Cyborg taught me that," she said.

Kid Devil looped an arm around her shoulders. "Well, the day is saved here, oh fearless leader. So where to next?"

* * *

Herald's portal deposited them onto hard, frozen tundra. Muddy white landscape stretched to all four corners of the horizon, featureless, save for the gleaming jet parked arbitrarily next to them. The portal steamed as cold air sapped its warmth.

"Lovely parking job," Argent grumbled when she stepped out of the portal. Icy wind whipped through her fishnet stockings. She trembled fiercely, clutching her arms to her corset. "Couldn't find a spot nearer to the shop?"

Tek followed Herald out, hopping over the closing portal's rim. She gazed up at the icicle-laden lines of the Icarus with a pang. The last, frozen relic of the old Teen Titans glared back at her, filling her with a secret shame. Her stomach churned and her knees quaked. Hopefully, the others would just think she was cold.

"It's not enough for you guys to just stay out of each other's way," Tek told her assembled, shivering teammates. "You guys have to work together. Believe me, I've seen these new guys in Jump City. If we can't work as a team, they'll take us apart faster than Light did in the bank.

"Y-yeah," Herald said through chattering teeth. "But wh-why here? I know we left the jet here, b-but I'd be happy to park us in w-warmer weather."

He'd raised his horn to his lips when Tek shook her head. "Nope. This place is perfect. It's isolated and it's desolate, which means we can't hurt anybody, and nobody can find us. And maybe the cold will encourage you guys to stick together. Let's grab some winter gear and some chow from the Icarus, and then get to work."

A click of Tek's communicator opened the Icarus's forward ramp. Its gears groaned in the cold. The end of the ramp sank into the snow as the freezing teens piled onto the ramp. Bumblebee shoved her way in first, trembling so hard that her holstered blasters clacked. "'Together' I can handle. But snow? Brrr!" she muttered.

"Don't know what you guys are complaining about," the shirtless Kid Devil said with a laugh. He lingered at the ramp's bottom, his bare feet melting into the permafrost. His mirth fell into disarray as Argent wrapped herself around his arm and pressed close to him. "Uhh…"

Argent cowed him with a blushing glare. "Don't go all tight in the trousers, Red. I'm just cold," she said.

Herald followed them up the ramp with a shivering chuckle. "Careful, KD. You know how those Continental girls can be."

As Bushido trailed behind, he noticed that Tek was not following him. He looked back and found her in front of the Icarus, locked in a staring contest with its angled view port. At Jericho's quizzical glance, he motioned for the boy to go ahead. "I will be up in a minute," he said.

His crunching footsteps made Tek break her gaze from the jet. She looked around the empty tundra, and then stammered, "Oh! Sorry, I was just…"

"That was very brave of you, facing Light alone," Bushido told her. His enigmatic, ever-present calm faded. His chin dipped. He stared into the snow, his brow creased with turmoil. "I was wrong to doubt you. I am…shamed, in that I did not follow you immediately."

"You came with the others. That counts for a lot," Tek said, squirming.

Bushido shook his head. "You returned to face impossible odds alone. I envy your courage, Tek."

Shame flooded her eyes. Her tears froze halfway down her cheek, making them impossible to hide from him. "Ryuko, I didn't go back to fight him," she confessed in a sob. "I just…I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take screwing up one more time, and letting everyone down, and it was getting so loud, so loud everywhere, all the time…" She cried and clutched her head, buckling with the weight in her head.

Realization swept Bushido's face. "You returned to Light because you wanted to…" He could not even finish the thought. He merely gaped at her, horrified at what she had attempted, and how wrong he had construed her intent.

"I just…I just couldn't take it anymore," she whimpered, weaving her fingers through her hair. "You can understand that, can't you? I'm tired, Ryuko. I'm so tired of being me." She sniffed, and added, "But I'm really glad you guys came back. I really am! I want to save Jump City. I do. And I can't do it without you."

Bushido stared at her for a long moment. The wind stirred his keikogi, but could not pierce his skin. He stood like a statue, his uniform fluttering on the icy gale that cut through the whole of her. Finally, in a low voice, he said, "I will not follow one who seeks death. I refuse. So I will ask you this once: do you wish to die?"

Tek's eyes trailed back to the Icarus. Inside, on the pilot's seat, sat the security box they had taken from Ops. She wanted so badly to fall off the face of the earth, to fall apart and let the snarling monster eat her from the inside out. But she wouldn't. Not yet. That box could hold the key to Jump City's salvation. Above all else, she knew she had to return it to Cyborg. The Titans, old and new, were counting on her for one last mission.

"Not right now," she answered honestly. She reached around her belt and drew a small, cracked plastic bottle.

Bushido goggled at her while she popped its top and palmed a pair of pills. "I thought you did not need those," he said.

Tek glanced up from the bottle. Apology shimmered in her eyes. "Yeah. Sometimes a good leader has to lie. I learned that from Robin," she murmured, and swallowed the pills.

Bushido shook his head as he followed Tek toward the ramp of the Icarus. "This is not at all how I imagined being a Titan would be," he said. "Are all of your endeavors burdened with such needless angst?"

An empty laugh steamed from Tek's mouth. She ascended the closing ramp with Bushido to join Jump City's last, best hope. Above the sound of the grinding gears, she answered, "Not always. Sometimes we do stupid stuff just for the fun of it."

**To Be Continued**Next week: Raven, alone and...dead?


	7. I'm Here

_I had three hollow-tipped, hyperkinetic rounds in my chest. I was lying in some jungle on who knows what planet, bleeding out in Beast Boy's arms while the underbrush burned around us. Cold shock seeped through my body, chasing out the wet jungle heat. Black ichor swamped my clothes and pooled in my lips. One breath emptied me._

_Beast Boy screamed and clutched me to his chest. He stared horrified into dilating eyes, howling my name. Sharp green fingers swept back my matted hair as he sobbed and buried his face in mine, weeping uncontrollably._

_It was very picturesque. Even a little sweet, in a disturbing sense. I floated over his shoulder and watched him cradle my body. I couldn't help but feel a little flattered. Even so, this was a battlefield, and so I shouted, "Run, you idiot!" even though I knew he couldn't hear me._

_In case you were wondering, I wasn't dead. Demons are a notoriously difficult kind of monster to kill. They heal instantly from any wound that isn't magical, or holy, or silver, or decapitating. Even then, you have to destroy the head or the heart, or they'll just regenerate again. Physical punishment can slow lesser demons down, but not for long._

_I'm half-demon. My father, a demon lord, gave me strength to spare. I heal like a demon does, but without the "instantly" part. What this means is that three bullets to the chest won't kill me, all appearances to the contrary, but they will ruin my day. Three bullets will make me wish I was dead, and give my sniper all the time in the world to wander by and take off my head. _

_I've learned trances that can expedite the process, but putting my guts back together from this mess would take time. Moreover, my body had kicked my spirit out to spare me the blindingly agonizing pain of physically "dying." Being spared from the pain meant I wouldn't go crazy. Yay. But there were downsides as well._

_Beast Boy didn't have any of these luxuries. That's why it was my turn to scream his name when three more bullets ripped through his back and threw him to the ground._

_Enraged, I flew at the source of the shots. A squat, rotund creature with a rifle trundled through the underbrush. He wore a scope over his eye and a smile on his upper mouth. His lower mouth chomped a cigar of some kind. Rage boiled through every part of me at the sight of his smug face. For once, I welcomed the rage. I grasped it, twisted it, and channeled every ounce of it into an incantation that would throw him into another time zone on this miserable planet. I hurled my rage into words: "Azarath! Metrion! Zinthos!"_

_The fat hunter walked through my spell. He walked through me, smiling merrily. In my anger, I'd forgotten the downside: an astral form can't affect the physical world. I could only watch as that extragalactic sleaze finished Beast Boy and took us both as prizes. Once he noticed my body slowly healing, he would try again, and keep trying until I stayed dead._

_He kicked aside the smoldering boots that had been Celv'n's killers and walked right up to Beast Boy and my body. His gun jabbed Beast Boy in the back, checking for resistance. Beast Boy bled at him in a non-threatening manner. Satisfied, the hunter rolled him off of my body, and bent over the both of us._

"_Such an ugly face," the hunter said, and brushed matted hair from my black eyes. Bodiless or not, I shuddered at his touch._

_The air split with a roar so loud that it drowned out the entire jungle. Lizard-like birds leapt from the trees in droves, filling the canopy with panicked rustling. I looked around, afraid of some new predator come to make things worse. When I found nothing, I looked back at the hunter._

_He gagged and paled beneath a green hand that disappeared into the fat around his throat. His face turned a rich shade of blue. Gargled pleas escaped both sets of swelling lips. He grasped at the hand and sank to his knees, coming face to face with his attacker, the last person on Earth or any other planet I would expect of such ruthless brutality._

_Beast Boy choked the fight out of the hunter. "Beast Boy, no!" I cried, and reached through his hand. I couldn't stop him, and he wouldn't stop. _

_Trapped between worlds, I could only watch the little boy I knew and tolerated as his face twisted with apoplectic rage. The uglier part of me wanted him to keep going, to crush the hunter's larynx and leave him to burn in the fires. But more prominent was my horror at the leering, predatory hatred that Beast Boy's elfish features had become. His eyes glinted green-gold, slitted like those of a cat._

_The hunter's struggle quelled. Standing, Beast Boy held the fat hunter at arm's length, and then threw him with a snarl. The hunter struck a tree at the black clearing's edge with a wet crunch. He did not get up again._

_Beast Boy circled my body, sniffing. A whimper trickled from behind fangs that I swear weren't that big a second ago. With tears in his eyes, he picked my body up as if it weighed nothing, and then sprinted from the clearing on human legs that could outpace a Buick._

_Through thick smoke and crackling fire, I watched a skinny, pathetic, immature boy in a grass skirt disappear into the bushes with the speed and grace of a jungle cat. I looked at the hunter he had hurled one-handed. I looked at the discarded gun that had pumped three rounds through Beast Boy's back to no effect._

_It made sense…didn't it? _

_Beast Boy is a shapeshifter. He restructures his anatomy with a whim. Unless something blocks his thoughts—say, a bullet to the head—he should be able to heal from any injury just by thinking the wounds healthy again. I'd seen him do it before under dire duress with broken legs. Then again, I'd also seen him become a dragon under similar circumstances. But this was just a natural evolution of his powers. He was just reacting to the circumstances by realizing his potential. And the hunter, well…that was just self-defense. An ugly necessity._

_These were the wonderful self-deceptions I clung to when I heard more rustling at the edge of the black clearing. When I turned, I felt a surge of hope. Tetramanus's bald, red face peered through the tall underbrush. He had heard the explosion and come back to help. Luck at last._

_Then the brush parted for a gangly, long-eared hunter who carried a longer pike on his back. Tetramanus stared from the top of the pike, his scowl frozen in death. More hunters poured out after him, armed and eager for a piece of the action. And last, but highest on my furious list, came the Master of Games._

"_What the frell happened here?" asked an avian hunter dressed in colorful fatigues._

_The hunters spread and examined the clearing. They rolled Celv'n's rocky body, and yelped at Bug-Eyes' boots, and gasped in horror at the fat sack of meat their other hunter had become. You didn't need to be an empath to feel the confidence draining from those mighty hunters. Fear flourished deep in their black, withered hearts._

"_Gentlemen, ladies, please," the Master pleaded. His showman's smile began to wilt. "This changes nothing. The hunt will continue as planned."_

_A fat felinoid screeched, "Are you mad? There have been at least three casualties, Gamesman! I paid for sport, not mortal danger!"_

_A chorus of agreement rang up from the throng. The Master looked around. I felt a small swell of panic behind his smile. All this death and that bastard worried about losing his clientele. Disgusting. _

"_I'm sorry," he said, eyes twinkling. "I must have been mistaken. I thought I had assembled the greatest hunters ever known. I thought hunters such as yourselves would appreciate true sport, a real contest! But if you would prefer a canned hunt instead, one can be arranged."_

_It was a cheap ploy. It also worked like a charm. "I'm no canned hunter, you bastard! Those filthy metas are mine!" bellowed a pale fish-face._

"_The frell they are! They're mine!" the felinoid yowled._

_The Master's grin resumed. I choked back choice words. They would have been wasted anyway. "Very good. I think you'll enjoy the remaining pair. They're a couple of young combatants I purchased from Earth, and I happen to know they're very resourceful," he said._

"_Can't be too resourceful," Long-Ears called from the edge of the clearing. He stood beyond the dwindling brushfire. Long fronds danced at Long-Ears' push. He swiped a spattering of black bile from the frond, and said, "They've left a trail a kellicam wide. One of them's bleeding."_

_My blood. My body was still bleeding, and it would lead the hunters right to Beast Boy. Terrified, I flew through Long-Ears and straight into the forest. I had to find him before they did. I had to find some way to warn him. Maybe if I touched his mind directly, I could convey the thought to him. It ran the risk of overpowering me with his thoughts and feelings, but I was as good as dead anyway. I had to try._

_One good thing about astral bodies is, they can really move. I sped through jungle terrain like it wasn't there, passing through tree and bush alike. The spattering of blood left an obvious trail. I would find him in minutes._

_Or I might have, if the trail didn't end abruptly. A large smear of blood stained the jungle floor next to torn fronds and footprints. Beyond that point, I couldn't find a single trace of Beast Boy or myself. In retrospect, I felt stupid for not laying a simple trace spell on my body. It would still call me back as soon as it was done healing, but now I couldn't find it, and I couldn't do anything to speed the process along._

_Stumped, I floated there until the hunters caught up. I moved much faster than they did. If they could reach the scene better than I, they could give me a direction to start looking for Beast Boy. But when they arrived, they were equally stymied. After minutes of contention, they decided to split up into three groups of five and spread from the scene in search of a new sign._

_I left them to their hunt. Beast Boy moved more quickly than they, too, and he was apparently as traceless in the jungle as I. But I had my own methods for tracking him, methods that didn't rely on the physical._

_The canopy predators couldn't harm me now. I flew through the treetops and into full sunlight. The jungle below me stirred in the wind like an ocean of color. Above me, a blue sky shone with three suns strung together like pearls. The jungle broke only for the majesty of a snow-capped mountain rising in the distance. The mountain's gray rock stood like a beacon among the nigh-endless jungle. I flew for it at once, welcoming the change._

_Up and up I soared. The air grew chilled, which I noticed only by the lack of trees and sleeting winds that passed through me. A few gnarled plants clung to the mountainside as I left the jungle, and those, too, vanished as I neared the snowy apex. I hovered above the mountain, witnessing others like it to the distant south. There was no life here, and no noise, save for the tranquil murmur of wind against rock._

_I repeated my incantation again, this time in peace. Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos. My anger stilled. My worry faded. With practiced meditation, I quelled the storm inside of me. I would need inner silence to match that of my surroundings. After a day like this, such silence didn't come easily or quickly._

_Time passed. How much, I can't say. The sky above me never darkened. Whenever one sun would dip into the horizon, another would rise, keeping the world in perpetual noon. Without a body, I had no heartbeat to tick away the seconds, no hunger to remind me of hours, no sleep to end the day. It could have been weeks. I didn't know. I meditated until my distant emotions became but a speck in my spirit._

_When I had stilled myself, I opened my mind fully to the world. My old psychic walls reluctantly lowered, and the ethereal noise of the jungle bathed me in life. From this far away, the teeming jungle felt like a distant din: a thousand-million different feelings all happening at once, moving, changing, and ebbing. Simple, bestial thoughts comprised the bulk of it. I settled in, stretching my consciousness, and waded through the simple tide in search of something more complex._

_Gradually, I came to know the jungle by its denizens. Worker insects strived in the rotting leaves on the ground in service of their colonies. Great, graceful predators prowled the deepest thickets where the sunlight couldn't reach them. Lumbering grazers squeezed between trees, consuming whole bushes in a single bite. The symphony of life dazzled me in its entirety. It was a beautiful machine with innumerable parts all moving in harmony._

_As I learned the jungle, I was better able to find that which did not belong. The complex thoughts of the hunters revealed themselves in the forest far below. I hovered for eons, tracking their pattern. They would circle larger and larger sections of jungle until their frustration succumbed to weariness. Then they would camp, resting and eating, laughing and trading good humor with one another, until they replenished their stamina and renewed their efforts._

_Searching, I felt my own patience begin to fray. By now I could count the hunters individually. But I still hadn't found Beast Boy. His blaring emotions should have stood out among everything else. As simpleminded as he is, he was still an emotional, conflicted, and above all frightened little boy. I could only think of one reason why I couldn't find him, and it was too horrible for me to accept. So I stretched myself further and listened harder._

_Attuned as I was, the violent burst of fear I felt shattered my quiet like a shot. My empathic ears rang with terror. Quickly, I raised my psychic walls and flew down into the jungle, hunting the source of the fear._

_I swam through leaves and trunks until I found the fear. It emanated from two creatures huddled in the underbrush. Their trembling shook the leaves, spattering the blood that dripped from the brush. Four bodies littered the area in a literal way. They had been torn apart and lay strewn in a carpet of gore so thick that it was impossible to tell what each of them had looked like in life._

_From the bushes stumbled Blackfire. Her skirt and blouse hung in shreds, and several scabbing cuts marred her silver bodysuit. Bruises mottled her face, which she twisted back at the bush. A long, thick chain trailed from a collar around her neck. Her hands and feet were bound in blinking shackles, probably to suppress her powers._

"_You! Girl!" a quaking voice called from the bush. "Draw the creature out!" The barrel of a ray gun emerged between leaves._

_Blackfire looked disgusted, but I could see deeper, and I knew how afraid she felt. She hid it well. "Come out, creature," she called listlessly, and waded into the gory remains of her other captors. _

_Entrails clung to her boots with each step. Even without a stomach, I felt sick. _

"_I'm so tasty," she called. "Please come out and eat me. Anything's better than staying with this little—" Her chain jerked, throwing her into the gore. She glared and sputtered. Blood covered her front, dripping from her chin, her hair, drizzling across her body. I could only imagine the smell. She looked ready to vomit._

_A low, rumbling growl rolled above us. Blackfire and I looked up in unison, and screamed. Something furry and enormous crouched on a bough. Its yellow eyes stared through us. Teeth, thick and slavering, split wide for a howl that shook the forest. Flecks of fresh meat rained in its roar. It coiled and sprang before even I could react._

_Startled, I listened for the creature's thoughts…and found none. I listened harder, searching for its emotions. Still, nothing. It was like the creature was a giant, walking empathic blind spot. My extra senses were useless against the creature, and that frightened me._

_Blackfire collapsed with a bloodcurdling scream. She cowered on the ground, growing slick with hunters' blood. The creature landed before her and bathed her in another roar. Emerald quills frilled its back. Thick, black fur covered its enormous, powerful body. Claws like daggers tipped its fingers. Opposable claws on its feet wrung the flesh carpeting the ground—its handiwork, I had no doubt. Blackfire was as good as food to this predator._

_But the creature pounced past her into the brush. The little ray gun barked a single shot that the creature easily avoided. Snarling, the creature dove into the bush. Screams of mortal terror arose within the thrashing leaves. Green ichor sprayed in every direction. Screams gave way to gurgling, and then one final, rattled breath. Still the ichor sprayed._

_When at last the creature's grim work was finished, it peered from the bushes at Blackfire. All pretenses in her fled. She shook with terror, weeping silently, unable to muster more than a squeak as the creature stalked upon her. It studied her with cruel eyes, tasting her scent with its wide nostrils. _

_Then it grabbed her. It crushed her manacles with a gesture, and tore the chains off her legs with a twist of its foot-claw. Blackfire gaped in the face of the creature, forgetting that her powers were restored. _

_The creature snarled and kicked her. She flew through a tree, shattering its trunk in a spray of green wood. She kept flying on her own, screaming into the forest, trailing the long collar chain behind her. I've never seen a Tamaranian fly so fast. _

_The creature watched her go with a tilted head. Then it leapt back into the trees with a single push of its thick legs. I followed, horrified, fascinated by the black creature. Could it be one of the predators of the jungle? No. It had freed Blackfire. Then perhaps it was another one of the Master's victims? I sensed nothing from it as it swung from branch to branch. It was as though it kept every thought and feeling locked away. It was focused beyond anything even my mind could approach._

_My curiosity got the better of me. I reached out and touched the creature's mind._

_Rage. Rage unlike anything I had ever experienced. Even a demonic presence could not compare. A demon's rage is sinister and calculating. This creature was nothing but blind, animal hate. It knew only to hurt those that hurt it. It had killed those hunters out of hate, not hunger. It was no animal. This was a monster in the truest sense of the word._

_The force of its mind catapulted me through the jungle. I saw only a swirl of colorful fronds and patches of sky before everything blurred into nothingness. My essence fragmented and spread._

_

* * *

__It's hard to describe pulling your astral self back together. It isn't pleasant, I can tell you that much. It's like being everywhere at once, only there's less of you, so you feel diluted._

_I had been unprepared for the force of the creature's mind, and it had cost me. By the time I had gathered enough of myself for time to have any real meaning, the creature was long gone. It left no discernable trail to follow, not even claw marks on the trees from which it swung. I couldn't track its focused mind, especially not in the ethereal noise of the jungle, and especially not after the jarring blow it had dealt my psyche. I left the trees and returned to the mountain._

_As I flew, I thought of the creature. If it truly was one of the Master's victims, then I could understand its hatred. And loathe though I was to admit, I could see myself condoning its actions. This wasn't a city, with laws and authorities to keep the peace. This was a jungle. Jungle law, as the cliché goes, is kill or be killed. And this wasn't our choice to be there. This was the hunters' game. If they were losing, they had no one to blame but themselves._

_Even as I repeated it, I felt disgusted. How could I condone killing? I had spent my entire life fighting that very attitude within myself. I dedicated my life to doing something good with my life, a life born from violence. My mother had crossed worlds and defied demons to give me that chance. Would I waste it by succumbing to killing? Wasn't there a better way?_

_I thought of timid, innocent Beast Boy, and how part of me had cheered him on when he choked and killed the fat hunter in the clearing. I felt spiteful at the being that had shot me, and saddened by his passing, and horrified for the little boy who had to kill him just to survive in this awful place._

_I felt ashamed. Suddenly, the jungle didn't seem beautiful or harmonious. I wanted nothing more than to find Beast Boy and go home. Forget the jungle, forget the hunters, and forget that horrible, murderous creature. I settled my essence atop the quiet mountain again, and meditated until the tempest inside me stilled again._

_It took a little longer this time._

_By the time I had calmed myself and extended my empathic senses, I only confirmed my worst fears. Beast Boy was still nowhere to be found in the forest. His foghorn mind wasn't anywhere in those trees. _

_My stillness faltered. I grew desperate, and searched further and further. My essence stretched to dangerous lengths to find him below. I felt every last hunter in the forest as they banded together against a faceless terror in the trees. Creatures everywhere puked their mindless feelings into me, bombarding me with more emotion than I could handle. And still, I couldn't find Beast Boy._

_Beast Boy and I have our differences. Anyone with an ounce of brains will tell you that immediately after meeting us both. In a lot of ways, he and I will never understand each other. We're too different. We'll never be close. I suppose that's mostly my fault. But in spite of it all, I admire him. He always seemed at ease with himself. He enjoyed his lot in life, and his uniqueness. He reveled in his immaturity, a fourteen year old that looks and acts like he's eleven._

_Wait. It's past October. I guess he's fifteen now._

_I combed the jungle in search of him. By now, my stillness had fractured completely against rocky desperation. Helpless, I picked the first complex thought I could find, and zoomed back into the forest to meet it, hoping against long odds._

_Instead, I found more hunters. It wasn't hard to find them beneath the canopy. Their fear blared, making them easy to pinpoint in the endless trees. I wearily cobbled my defenses against their shrieking emotions as I descended upon them._

_Six of them crept through the underbrush. They lurked beneath enormous roots and pushed through fronds as silently as they could. Each one of them had smeared mud over their glistening skin (or in one case, carapace), probably to mask their scent. Each one of them held a weapon. None of them looked entirely confident in their weapons' effectiveness._

"_This is madness," a dog-eared hunter hissed to a companion of the same species ahead of him. When the companion shushed him, his whisper became insistent. "We should have the Gamesman send us home!"_

_The other Dog-Ear growled back, bearing sharp teeth from his muzzle. He charged his plasma cannon with a sharp jerk, and snarled, "Would you go home and admit defeat to a couple of primates? Would you have the mightiest hunters of Stt'kk be fetched back so easily?"_

_Something growled in the treetops, ending their quarrel. I recognized that growl. The hunters and I all looked hard into the boughs, searching for any glimpse of black fur or a yellow glare. The jungle was thick here, thick enough to cast real darkness in this world of perpetual sunlight. Darkness for the first time in so long jarred me. I knew it jarred the hunters, too. Their fear swamped me, masking the little sliver of fear I saved for myself._

_The rolling growl led the hunters deeper into the pitch jungle. Those unlucky hunters below me couldn't feel the other eyes following them, eyes of crafty predators that watched them trundle through their forest. But those predators didn't stalk the hunters. They remained respectfully dormant, as though they could sense the creature that my ethereal senses were blind to._

_Their eyes turned overhead, the hunters paid less attention to their drifting steps. The one in the lead, the fish-faced one I remember from before, set a light foot upon a seemingly harmless vine._

_The vine snapped sprang into the brush from where it had been drawn taut. The bent sapling it had been holding back whipped out of the same brush. Its trunk had been hewn into a coarse axe, which smashed into Fish-Face's head before he could even scream. His skull split and sprayed beneath the sapling. Drunk on death, his body staggered and fell while the tree that had killed him swayed back upright._

_Covered in his friend's carelessness, the next in line, Cowardly Dog-Ear, screamed furiously at the leafy ceiling high above. He started firing wildly into the jungle, filling the air with golden fire. Another hunter near the back, the fat Feline, lost her nerve and joined him. Their shots burned through the jungle to little effect. Creatures of the dark scampered from the glowing bolts, rustling the trees above us._

_The other, braver Dog-Ear growled impatiently, hardly caring that his fishy companion had just been brutally bludgeoned. He shoved the other Dog-Ear, and snarled, "Stop that, you idiot!"_

_Cowardly Dog-Ear stumbled back and tripped over a root. He fell, and then kept falling, vanishing through large fronds strewn on the ground. His yelp ended in a squelch. I peered through the fronds before any of the other hunters had a chance to uncover the hole. I looked away just as quickly._

_Sapling spikes protruded from the Dog-Ear. They had been sharpened and staked into a hole that had been clawed out of the dirt. Large fronds had covered the spike pit, making it impossible to distinguish from the rest of the jungle floor. The classic trap had done its job. Cowardly Dog-Ear twitched once, already gone. His eyes widened into two great abysses._

_Feline hissed as she stared into the pit. "Traps! Farking traps!"_

_Brave Dog-Ear slapped her hard and snarled, "Who's stalking who here? Pull yourselves together! These are just animals, like any other prey, only more clever. This is what we paid for. Real sport! This is the first thrill I've felt in a long time, and you people are complaining? This is a hunt. Either be hunted, or be hunter, or go home, but stop meddling and stay out of my way regardless!"_

_Stirring words. And they were having a substantial impact on his comrades until a boulder the size of a van fell through the trees and crushed him into the ground. No trace of him remained as a flash of black fur landed on the boulder. The creature pounded its chest and roared furiously at the hunters. _

_They screamed. They panicked. I think Feline got a shot off before the creature tore her in its jaws. I can't be sure. I looked away so I wouldn't have to watch. As much as I hated these beings, I couldn't stand to see anyone die so horribly. No one deserved that. I wished I had eyes to close or ears to plug, so I could have hid from the horror of their deaths._

_Their screams subsided. I looked down and felt my essence at the sight of the remains painting the creature's red jaws. It stared after the last hunter, another like Bug-Eyes, who ran through the jungle with clumsy fear. The creature stood there, watching, drinking in the scent of the scene. Fresh kill dripped from its fangs and claws. Something akin to a smile wrenched its face._

_I wondered why it hadn't finished the last one, but knew the answer immediately. This thing was no animal. It was smart. It laid traps, and had led the hunters to exactly the spot it chose. It let the last one escape to let it run right into the arms of the other hunters. It wanted to finish its horrific task._

_Sure enough, the creature took to the trees again. I followed fast, determined to stop it. If I could get into the creature's mind, I might be able to shut it down. I was essentially intending to bond myself to the creature's mind, and then kill it, thus killing myself, too. The very idea made me sick through and through, but I couldn't let it kill again. I couldn't bear to think of what it would do to those hunters, no matter if such vile beings deserved it or not. I had to save them, even if their lives were an utter waste._

_This time I kept my defenses, and wedged them into a battering ram. The creature's rage blasted against my psyche again. I fought it every synapse along the way, pushing into its mind bit by bit. It sensed me and fought me, snapping at me with jaws of hate. In the end, my willpower prevailed by the thinnest of margins. I entered its mind. The creature and I became one._

Alone. I'm so alone. I lie on the ground in a camp, surrounded by Earth jungle. It's so cold. I had been lonely, and the green monkey wanted to play. I didn't know it would bite me. Now I feel alone and cold, and numb, and sick. Mommy and Daddy keep making sad faces at me while they fuss with their beakers and tubes.

They're back now. Blonde and beautiful, Mommy picks me up. I cling to her. Strong, smiling bravely, Daddy holds up a needle. I try to be brave too. It hurts. It really hurts! Something running through me, eating me up, taking me over. I scream, and feel a beast wrap around me.

It's later. I'm older, but not much. I stand on the bank of a river and stare at the spot where Mommy and Daddy disappeared with the boat. They can't turn their beast into a fish and swim like me, but they're strong. They have to be strong. They won't leave me alone with my beast, will they? It's been so long since they went under. They have to come back up. Any second now…

It's way later. I've gotten so good at keeping the beast down. Laughing helps a lot. Now I can look almost normal, even when I sleep! Mento and Elasti-Girl are proud. I wanna make them prouder. I'm gonna make the beast get bigger, but only when I want it to. I wonder what else I can turn him into.

I'm a Titan! How cool is it hanging out with Robin? I know we're gonna be best buds. Starfire and Cyborg are cool too. They like to laugh. Raven doesn't, though. She looks sad. She sounds sad, too. I bet if she laughed, she'd feel better. Laughing makes me better. Why not her?

God, Terra is so beautiful. She makes me smile so hard, I think my teeth'll start tap dancing. I'll never feel this way about anyone else. She loves me. I know she'll love me forever!

Why? Why did she go? Why didn't she stay? It's my fault. It's always my fault. She hates me. She left because of me. Raven was right. Terra's gone, and it's my fault.

No. Keep laughing.

Robin's gone. Cyborg's gone. Starfire's gone. Tek's gone. All I have left is Raven. Raven hates me.

Keep laughing. Keep smiling. Don't let it out.

Raven's gone.

Gone.

Gone.

GONE.

_I fell out of its mind, barely able to keep my defenses intact. I stared numbly as it swung through the jungle after its prey. It seemed even larger, even stronger, than when I'd entered it. Its quills bristled, sharper. Its claws flexed, crushing entire boughs._

_I prayed to Azar that I was wrong, even though I knew I wasn't._

_Before I could give chase again, I felt something pulling me across the jungle. Helpless, I tumbled through endless trees, until finally I left the canopy. The unseen force dragged me to the side of the mountain. I fell into a small mound of rocks that had been carefully arranged. There, I found my body, weakened but restored, and wrapped it around myself._

_With a gasp, I awoke inside the darkness of the rock. Cracks of light peered through the gaps. My breath steamed and danced in the slivers of light. I shivered and tried to clutch myself. There was no room to move, and it was freezing. I could feel frost clinging to my eyelashes._

_I burst from the cairn with a thrust of my soul. Then I collapsed upon the scattering rocks, reorienting myself in the ways of flesh. Large leaves broke from around my body. They were brittle and covered in frozen black blood. I'd been mummified in them and laid to rest on a picturesque ledge overlooking the entire jungle. I was miles from where I'd been just a moment ago. _

_Up high, the air was as cold as I'd imagined it when I was an astral. I wrapped myself in a cloak of ether to quell my shivers. Behind me, the mountain climbed high into the clouds. Around me, the smaller rocks of my cairn mixed with large boulders, and fell into the cracks in the ledge. And on the ground next to me, a rumpled husk of flesh in a grass skirt lay half-buried in rock and snow._

_The green skin glistened stickily. Its face stared back at me with empty sockets. This was the last glimpse I would ever have of Beast Boy as I knew him. It was like something had torn violently out his back and taken everything inside his skin with it. And just like that, I understood._

_I flew. I flew faster than I ever had, heedless of the cold. My mind combed the forest for any trace of fear. That's where he would be._

_The mountain cold gave way to wet heat from the jungle. I dove through the canopy. Gargantuan bird-lizards chased me, hungry for the delicious body I'd just gotten back. I twisted my soul into the boughs around me and slapped them away with their own trees. I was too worried to be afraid of them now._

_Through boughs and brush I flew, until at last I came back to the small clearing where it had all began. The hunters had set up camp there, with collapsed chrome fabric tents around a scattered campfire. Trees had been uprooted and tossed into the clearing. I could see arms and legs sticking out from under the enormous trunks. Red smears spackled the leaves at my feet. The smell jerked my empty stomach up. I coughed and threw up, except nothing came out._

_Only one hunter remained. It was the Master of Games. The creature loomed over him, covered in gore, dripping blood in long, hungry tendrils of saliva from its enormous teeth. Its claws raked the Master's chest, turning his gray fur red and pulling a shriek from his fangs. He saw me behind the creature and screamed, "Help me!"_

_The creature twisted with a grunt. It saw me, and its yellow scowl narrowed. I watched it taste my scent, sniffing the air. Something sparked in its eyes, but I couldn't tell what. It was still empathically invisible, focused beyond the point of reading. I tried to keep my knees from shaking._

_The Master seized the distraction, and tried to run. He got one step before the creature whirled and grabbed his head in its claw. Roaring, the creature slammed the Master into the ground, kicking up leaves and dirt, and drawing more blood from where its claws creased the Master's sobbing face. The creature raised its other claw to plunge into the Master's throat. Its cruel nails came together into a crude spear. But its killing stroke bounced off a shield I'd culled from my soul to protect the Master._

_I expanded my soul into a bubble that covered the Master. "That's enough, Garfield," I told the creature._

_It roared again and raked my soul bubble. The creature howled and clawed at the cowering Master. Its attacks strained my barrier. Its hatred burst into my soul with each blow. As its frenzy grew, its hatred wearied me, but I kept the bubble intact._

_I dropped to my knees. Blood trickled from my nose. I was tired. I hadn't eaten since who knew when. This vicious thing wanted to rip apart a creature that, honestly, I had little pity for. But one thought kept me going. "I won't let you kill him, Garfield. He's not a threat to you anymore," I told it._

_Trapped beneath the sanctuary of my bubble, the Master mewled, "I'm not! I swear!"_

_"You have every right to be angry," I told it. "I know what you've been going through. And up until now, it's been kill-or-be-killed. But you've won. It's time to stop."_

_The Master shriveled from the bubble, which I contracted and condensed to keep intact as the creature wore it down. "I declare you the winner!" the Master sobbed. "C-congratulations!"_

_Furious, its thin patience spent, the creature threw itself from the bubble. Its eyes and jaws turned to me. Its leonine roar split the air. Then it charged, tearing apart the jungle floor as it raced upon me. I did nothing, and let the creature fall upon me. It knocked me to the ground and pinned me with his cutting claws. Its jaws descended, bathing me in the stink of the kill._

_I opened myself. I dropped every last defense I had, and I let the entirety of the creature pour into me. Rage flooded my being. My father happily consumed the creature's rage and doubled it inside of me. It felt like a hurricane of pure anger tore through my mind, leaving everything that I was damaged and incomplete. But I held on. I stayed open, and took everything pouring out of it._

_The creature felt its rage slipping away. It balked, and tried to leave, but I clutched its claws to my chest and held it fast. It slipped through, cutting me. I leapt upon it and held on, cinching my arms around its quilled back. My hands grew slick with my blood. My body rattled with the effort. Tears of pitch burned in my eyes. Still I held, ignoring the pain and the hate. "I'm here, Garfield!" I shouted above the storm in my head._

_Its anger waned. It changed. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming sense of loss replace everything inside of me, drowning out even my father's laughing voice. The only thing I had known, or would ever know, was the pain of losing someone I loved. Nobody stayed. People leave. Everyone I loved was gone. Gone. __**Gone**_

_"I'm here, Garfield!" I shouted it into the creature's chest. I thought it into the creature's mind. I felt it into its soul. One thought, again and again, expressed in every way I knew how. I hugged it tight, and with every ounce of me I had left, I stayed with him._

_Its grief boiled my soul. I trembled and exploded and felt myself dying in the torrent pouring out of him. My nails ran red with the strength of my grip. It sank to his knees. Its arms wrapped around me, and he hugged me back. Its fur and quills rolled off of his bloodied skin. Its roar became his sob._

_Beast Boy fell upon me. He clung to me as if I would vanish the second he let go. Raw sobs wracked his throat and shook his naked body. He wept like a child, burying his face into my neck until all he could see was me._

_I stroked his hair and hugged him back. Filthy, bleeding, exhausted, we knelt together on the jungle floor. His emotions still roiled against me, but they were human emotions again. Complex and suffering. Crying with him, I touched his mind through our link, placing him in a deep sleep. His sobs quelled. His tears stemmed. _

_As I lowered him to the ground, I studied what he had become. He had looked twelve when we first arrived at the jungle. Now he could have passed for seventeen with ease. When he stood, he would be more than a head taller than me. Strong, sculpted muscle lurked beneath his smooth green skin. With sharp cheekbones and otherworldly features, his face looked as though it had been plucked from a fairy tale. I peered deeper into his soul as our minds separated once more. From the safety of my defenses, I could see new scars inside of him, far beneath this new physical form he had manifested._

_From the corner of my eye, I saw the Master of Games making a break for the edge of the clearing. I lurched to my feet and gave chase. With the very last of my strength, I ported myself in front of him, twisting the shadows themselves to block his retreat. It was all I could do to stay steady on my feet as I cowed him with a glare._

_Some small morsel of courage must have returned to him in the wake of "the creature's" defeat. That and he probably wasn't impressed by a sorceress in hot pants and a crop top. "Well played, young champion," he said with a sneer. "Now, good luck in finding your way home. I'll see you next time."_

_Like I said, I had nothing left. Nothing except the double helping of rage and pain I had siphoned off of the darker parts of Beast Boy. All that excess emotion churned my gut into a sickening ball. I opened myself one last time, and twisted all of that rage and pain into fear. It isn't hard—they're all just permutations of one another, in the end._

_Raw, pure fear crossed the space between us. My father felt me calling upon the anger, and fed more into me. I felt myself rise on ebony wings. The jungle around us crackled and froze, glistening with demonic cold that radiated from every shadow. My hair billowed with an ill wind that came from nowhere. My two eyes closed, and then my four eyes opened. The Master's last kernel of courage withered._

"_**You**__," I said. My father joined me, giving my voice unholy resonance. "__**You will send us home. You will send everyone home, and you will never do this again.**__"_

_The Master of Games fell before the unbridled hatred of a true demon sorceress. He prostrated himself on his hands and knees, cowering from the blackness roiling beneath me. The stench of urine cut the cold air. "O-of course!" he said in a quaking tone._

"_**Pray to whatever gods will have you that I never see you again,**__" I preached. "__**The next time we meet, I will make you beg for a quicker death.**__" My eyes flashed._

_He shrieked and snapped his fingers. Time and space went away again. I lost consciousness sometime after._

_

* * *

__I suppose I could write about what happened after that, about how we woke up in Jump City. But that part doesn't really matter. Some guys in red robes found us in a dumpster, and I had to look at naked Beast Boy until I worked up the strength to port us to the Tower. After that, it was really all about finding new clothes and raiding our meager supplies for freeze dried rations and clothes until we felt something akin to "normal" again. The only other thing worth mentioning is what came after that._

_I ate three MREs (whose acronym assuredly stands for "most revolting edibles," regardless of what the packaging says) and fell asleep on the ground, too tired to make it into my tent. When I woke up again, it was night, I had a fierce crick in my neck, and the tent next to mine was curiously empty. I listened, and heard that bottled foghorn I sought high above me atop the Tower._

_A quick portal took me to the Tower's roof. It was a peaceful spot I used to use for meditation. The lapping of the waves and the twinkling lights of the city helped make up for the dull roar of emotion I felt across the bay. It made me feel almost human sometimes. Sometimes I need that. I guess Beast Boy needed it too._

_He sat at the roof's edge with his long legs dangling over. His hands braced him while he leaned back and gazed at the city. The way he sat made it easy too see just how much he had changed. His old uniform fit his new body poorly, straining to cover his muscles and too short to cover his washboard stomach. I expected it wouldn't be long before staring in a mirror became his favorite pastime. But that wasn't then. That night, he gazed far past the city, past the stars, to a horrible jungle somewhere beyond. I wondered if he would ever leave the jungle at all._

_Not a word passed between us as I sat next to him, arranging my cloak behind me and lowering my hood. I waited to see if he would speak first. He remained physically silent and emotionally deafening. _

_I drew two more packages of freeze-dried "food" from my cloak, and tossed one to him. The other I tore open for myself. Damn the calories, I was still hungry. "Eat," I told him. "You haven't yet. And don't bother telling me otherwise."_

_His new face fell with apology. His eyes were puffy and red. The pressurized spray of feelings worsened, chipping away at my tired defenses. "Sorry. My stomach still feels yucky," he said in his husky new voice._

_("Yucky," by the way, sounds hilarious coming from someone whose looks were torn from a Calvin Klein catalogue. It's the closest I've ever come to laughing at something Beast Boy said, which still isn't very close.)_

"_I can still…taste it," he said._

_His gaze sank into the ocean below us. I felt him drifting back into himself, where the other part of him prowled. I stopped eating, and for no reason I can remember, against every ounce of good sense I have, said, "I know what you're thinking right now. I've been there before, too." My mind screamed at me to stop talking, to reach into his mind and take back that little tidbit of my darkest secret. But I knew if it got him to talk, it would be worth it._

_That brought him back at once. Even his feelings stilled for a brief instant, muffled by surprise. But then he absolutely shocked me by saying nothing. He returned his gaze to the ocean without a word. I couldn't believe it._

"_You're not even going to ask?" I said._

_Scoffing, he kicked his legs and said, "I don't want to talk about it. Why would you?"_

"_You didn't kill anyone, Beast Boy," I told him._

_He still wouldn't look at me. He tapped his head, and said, "I've got a whole bunch of screaming faces rattling around in here that say otherwise."_

_I scooted closer. The tempest behind his eyes worsened. With concentration, I kept his feelings at bay, and sat shoulder to shoulder with him. The chill in the air made me shiver, but it didn't seem to bother him. "What do you remember?" I pressed._

"_I dunno. Flashes. Screaming. Trees." His hand brushed his lips. "Blood."_

"_You remember bits and pieces because you weren't in control. It was." _

"'_It,' what?" he asked sullenly._

_Then he blinked, and looked up. His eyes trailed slowly to mine, as though he dreaded meeting my gaze. I think he knew what I was going to say. "I know," I told him. "I know about your beast. It's been with you since you were a child."_

_He tried looking away. "That's just some nightmare I've had since I was little," he said._

"_It's real, and it's inside of you. I felt it. I've seen it. It's an animal…maybe it's all the animals. It's what lets you morph. And when you lost control, when you were knocked out by those bullets, it took control. It inherited all of the bad feelings you were bottling up. That much complicated emotion drove it insane, until all it knew to do was hurt whatever made it feel that way."_

_"The hunters…" he murmured._

_"—Were killed by the animal they were hunting," I insisted. "An animal inside of you that 'wasn't' you. It isn't you, Garfield. You were trapped inside of it. Now it's trapped back inside of you."_

_"…because you saved me," he said. His eyes glistened._

_I faltered. This was rapidly heading down a mushy road I didn't want walk. "Well, you saved me. It seemed fair," I said._

_I could see him waver. He looked unsure, and asked, "But how can you know for sure?"_

_"Because you can choose to look like anything, and you chose to look like this," I said, and gestured to his new form. "And because the thought of what you might have done is tearing you apart. You're a good man, Garfield Logan."_

_He looked down at himself, silent and pensive for a moment. "I tried, but I can't morph back into myself. Or, my old self. I don't know. I guess I'm stuck like this," he said. His lips quirked. "Not a bad bod to be stuck with, though, huh?"_

_The tension eased in his chest, if not in his soul. Even if he forgave himself for the death of those miserable hunters, I could still feel his emotions blasting from the cracks of his clumsy bottling. He gave me a tiny, completely contrived smile as he lapsed back into silence. I knew what I had to do to help him. I just hoped he could forgive me for it._

_"Tara's gone, Garfield," I said._

_He glanced over. For the first time, I noticed that his new eyes were slitted, like a cat's. They flashed with amber overlaying emerald as his brows knit. "Uh, yeah. I know," he said._

_"She's gone, Garfield."_

_"I know," he said again with a confused look._

_"It's not your fault," I said._

_He looked around as if expecting the rest of a joke to appear. "Okay, this is weird," he said. "What are you—"_

_"Tara is gone, and it isn't your fault," I insisted._

_Beast Boy scowled. "Raven, what are you doing?"_

_I looked him dead in his cat eyes, and I said in a calm voice, "Tara left you. She betrayed you, she abandoned you, and she's not coming back. Ever. And it isn't your fault. You couldn't have stopped it."_

_"Raven, I know that."_

_"It's not your fault."_

_"Seriously, stop—"_

_"It's not your fault."_

_"Raven, shut up."_

_"It's not your fault."_

_"Shut up."_

_"It's not—"_

_"__**Shut up!**__" he roared. He was on his feet faster than I could blink. Anger radiated from him in hot waves. His lips rose over sharp fangs. "Shut up, Raven! Why would you say that? Why would you rub that in my face? __**Why?**__"_

_I rose calmly, and met his glare with as much serenity as I could keep against his turmoil. I told him, "I'm trying to make you feel bad because you refuse to. You keep hiding behind these idiotic smiles and stupid jokes, and bottling everything up. It's what drove your beast insane. It's killing you. And that's killing me."_

_"I'm not…it's not like…" Beast Boy's frown faded until his face drew blank. I watched him stare into himself, and blink at the turmoil that I had felt in him for more than a month. All that hurt and anger he had been collecting spilled over in his eyes. He staggered, threatening to fall. I caught him by the arm._

_"I want you to feel bad, Garfield. You need to let yourself feel bad," I said. "If you don't, you'll never be able to feel good again. Please."_

_Slowly, slowly, the tight ball of emotion behind his tearful eyes relaxed. It dimmed into the normal shout I knew and tolerated in him. It bellowed sadness into me, but at a volume my defenses could handle. With my help, he sank back onto the roof's edge, and cried silently. Watching his tears was harder than any jungle trek ever could be._

_"You really don't think she left because of me?" he said, his voice a ghost._

_Thinking back to the love and devotion I'd felt in him just a few months ago—a love that I envy more than a little—I said to him, "Not a chance." I bent down, trying to catch his eye. "Are you…are you okay?" I asked clumsily._

_Beast Boy chuckled for real as he met my gaze. Azar help me, it was music to my ears. "No," he said, and shook his head. "But I think I will be. Thanks."_

_What the hell, he earned it. I gave him a tiny smile._

_Beast Boy will survive what happened in that jungle. He'll survive what Terra did to him. I know he will. Just looking at him now, at what he's chosen to become, I know he's stronger than I ever imagined._

_And I'll never be able to look at him and see that obnoxious little boy anymore. Not because of his picture-perfect shapeshifter looks, mind you. And I'm sure he'll still be obnoxious. But I saw something in Beast Boy that he has to live with every day. He fights for control of his own body with laughter and joy the same way I fight for mine with peace and tranquility. And he'll keep fighting, just like me, because neither one of us will accept that we have to be what our personal demons want us to be. An animal. A monster._

_Maybe we aren't so different after all._

_**The En**_

_Well…_

_I suppose for completion's sake that I should mention this last part. It's really nothing._

_As I created another portal to leave the roof, I heard Beast Boy whisper my name. Even before he spoke, I felt a breath of quiet hope brush my back. I turned. He was still sitting on the roof's edge, twisted around, trying for all the world not to sound as desperate as I knew he felt._

_"Raven," he said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, "It's, uh, cool if you don't want to, and all, I would totally understand. But the thing is… If I promised to be really quiet, would you stay? Please?"_

_I knew he wouldn't keep quiet. But he was so earnest. And his smile was genuine for the first time in too long. What else could I do? _

_I stayed._


	8. New Order: Titans Together

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**The New Order**: _Titans Together_

The city shook with a clash of titanic magnitude. For too long, it had known fear at the hands of Red X and his merciless gang of ne'er-do-wells. He came from shadows, taking as he pleased, leaving only terror for his victims. But at long last, heroes had arrived to challenge him: teenagers like him, with extraordinary power, but possessed of the notion that no citizen should ever have to fear those with gifts like theirs. These teenagers, these children on the cusp of greatness, fought Red X's ilk with everything they had to defend their city.

They were, to say the least, a bit outclassed.

Electricity filled the air from the hands of a painfully pale boy pressed back against a boutique storefront. Black, rubbery material clung to him, decorated with copper veins in the shape of lightning. His eyes glowed blue with the same energy that crackled from his fingertips. "I could use a little help here!" the boy, Juice, yelled at the top of his lungs.

A technological imp, Gizmo, hovered over Juice on jets extending from his battle pack. A globe of translucent green energy ate Juice's blue lightning without ruffling Gizmo in the slightest. When Gizmo extended his arms, his pack sprouted protonic cannons, the grips of which slithered into his hands. "You need a lot of help, Casper," he razzed Juice.

Close enough to hear the cry for help, Queenie was powerless to answer it. She was locked in a contest of strength with the copper-topped tower of muscle named Mammoth. Though Queenie was by no means a slouch—she stood a head taller than six feet, and her baggy sweatshirt concealed metahuman muscle that would make any bodybuilder flex with envy—she trembled and bent against Mammoth's iron grip. Her hands creaked inside his. Sweat glistened down her ebony forehead, making her sunglasses slip.

"Had enough, cutie pie?" Mammoth teased.

She tried to answer, but her banter became a cry when Mammoth twisted suddenly, surprising her into the air with superior leverage. Queenie flew end over end and fell into another of her teammates, a teen with golden skin and styled hair who wielded a pair of rusty revolvers. The boy fell prone underneath Queenie's rock-solid bulk with a grunt.

"Oh, real nice, Queenie," the buried boy snarled.

"Shut up, Magnum," Queenie snarled back.

The girl Magnum had been deadlocked with emerged from behind the old, parked Buick she'd been using as cover. Straps of leather bound her enticing curves. More leather clung to her hips and legs in a manner suggesting that it had been poured, not donned. She gestured at the street.

The pavement leapt at the command of her hand, wrapping around the stacked pair of heroes. Queenie and Magnum yelped as the street itself grasped them, keeping them at bay with fingers of hot stone.

With another gesture, the girl—Shimmer—transmuted the pavement into solid steel, entombing all but their heads. "Shoddy road, right? The city should look into that," Shimmer said with a sick grin.

"Great. Just great," Magnum huffed while Shimmer left them trapped. "I'm stuck underneath Queenie, and I can't even reach any part of her that'd make it worthwhile."

Forced to face up by their metal tomb, Queenie shouted, "I feel anything, I'm gonna squash ya!"

Further down the street, Jinx, the lilac-haired witch, kept two more at bay. To her left was a short, scrawny boy with wild hair that framed a set of dark safety goggles so large they dwarfed the rest of his golden face. He had an arm made of silvery alloy, which he aimed at Jinx and braced with his other arm. His voice droned with unnatural calm as he said, "I advise you to surrender."

Jinx snorted at the scrawny cyborg, and then at the scrawnier blue-skinned boy to her right. Both advanced on her as if to capture her. Both were in for a rude awakening. "And why should I, goggles? You Salvation Army super dweebs going to take me in?"

The blue boy barked, "His name is Stripwire, and don't make fun o' him! We're the Streetbeat, and we're gonna mess you up, pinky!"

"I do not believe she cares, Blink," Stripwire noted.

"I don't. I promise." Hex crackled in Jinx's hands.

Stripwire's metal arm mechamorphed into a hollow cannon. Wind whistled in its barrel as he answered, "Luckily, her opinion on the matter is extraneous." The cannon clicked and wumphed. For a split second, Jinx thought it had malfunctioned.

Then she felt a column of air punch her in the stomach. The thrust of air made her stumble back.

Blink crouched and vanished in a silent flash of light. He reappeared behind Jinx on his hands and knees, giggling. Jinx fell onto her backside with a yelp, collapsing through the flash Blink left while he teleported back to Stripwire's side.

The boy's cannon became an arm once more. It didn't stay that way for long. His forearm sprouted long, thin tentacles that wrapped around Jinx into a cocoon. She cursed and wriggled, but couldn't free even one hand.

"As Blink stated, we are the Streetbeat. This is our neighborhood. You are not welcome," Stripwire told his wriggling captive.

Jinx scowled. "That's a bit of bad luck for you, sparky," she said.

Lilac hex poured out of every part of Jinx. It seeped into Stripwire's tentacles and up his arm. Pink sparks erupted from the arm's joints, eliciting a raised eyebrow from its owner. Stripwire watched his arm disassemble into a jumble of interconnected components dangling from his shoulder. "This is unfortunate," he said.

Coils of cable sloughed off Jinx as she stood with crackling eyes. "You haven't seen 'unfortunate,'" she growled.

A gale descended around Jinx, five times the power and fifty times the magnitude of Stripwire's compression cannon. Her conjured wind swept Stripwire and Blink into the air, where they tumbled at Jinx's mercy.

The last of the Streetbeat watched his friends falling into the sky. A red, jagged blade flashed at his throat, recapturing his focus. He brought his own blade up to block, stopping the blow against the hilt of his old broadsword. His blade locked with the gauntlet of his foe, a skull-masked man in black armor and a red cape, who said, "So this is the infamous Streetbeat? I'm disappointed."

The last Streetbeat strained. Dirty blond hair fell into his eyes, obscuring his struggle with Red X. His broadsword trembled with effort. "Screw you," the teen snarled.

"Jason, isn't it?" Red X asked of the blond. He got a grunt in reply, and shrugged. The contest of blades didn't seem to test Red X's strength in the slightest, which infuriated Jason to no end. "When I heard of you, I had to come down to Jump Central to see for myself. You have quite the local reputation. I was looking forward to a challenge."

The blade of Jason's sword dipped inexorably toward him despite his best effort. No man had ever been strong enough to best his blade, especially not one-handed, as Red X did now. _His suit must give him extra oomph,_ the Streetbeat leader thought. _Wish I'd known that a minute ago._ Jason abandoned the contest without warning. He slid his blade from Red X's and spun around, lashing out with is foot.

Red X simply wasn't there. As Jason's boot split the air, he felt something heavy strike his kidney. He staggered, and looked around in time to catch Red X's foot with his nose. Stars exploded behind his eyes while his body sailed off of the kick. He collapsed on the street, his face slick with blood, his vision swimming with Red X's haunting mask.

The villain bent over Jason and took up his broadsword. "Such a waste," he said, not of the blade he fondled, but of the Streetbeat who'd lost it.

Blood swam in Jason's mouth. He spit it a Red X. The spittle fell short, but the sentiment struck home. "I swear…" he slurred.

"You?" Amusement resounded from behind Red X's mask. "You aren't even close to my league, boy. Keep Jump Central. This ghetto deserves you, and you, it. Come look me up when you're a credible threat." Red X tossed the sword. It clattered onto the pavement behind him as he turned and walked away.

He approached Jinx, who kept her two Streetbeat helpless inside of a localized tornado, which she balanced on her palm for her own amusement. She smiled as she felt his arms slide around her waist. "Having fun?" she asked without turning around.

He peered over her shoulder, pressing his face next to hers. She smelled of an intoxicating blend of flowers, a scent that warmed his blood in the Californian winter. "Not nearly enough. These low-rent heroes bore me to tears."

Jinx reached around to pat his cheek. As she did so, her tornado dissipated, and her prisoners thudded on the street. "Aw. Poor baby. You want to go rob the bank again? They might have more money by now."

"That sounds like a laugh. I could do with a little excitement. Lately, it feels like things have gotten boring," he said. Hand in hand, they strolled off to gather the rest of their friends, who had piled the other Streetbeat atop one another for Shimmer to fuse together into the same metallic mound that held Magnum and Queenie.

Jinx slapped him hard on his hindquarters. "Careful what you say, Baby Face. Luck'll hear you, and give you all the excitement you can handle. And be extra careful about who you call boring," she added, squeezing his hand playfully.

* * *

In a claustrophobic examination room deep in the sterile white bowels of S.T.A.R. Labs, a desk monitor buzzed with another in a long series of depressing news reports. City work crews on the screen struggled with cutting torches to free six teenage heroes out of the molded metal mound adhering them to the street. It was a wonder they were still alive.

Working the foreground of the shot, the handsome reporter Hank McCoy glanced back at the scene with a grim expression. "_Tragedy visited the beloved downtown of Jump City today. The vicious gang of metahumans plaguing the reconstruction of the city after last fall's Attack left the area in ruins and local residents huddled in fear. Despite the best effort of local Samaritans, calling themselves the Streetfleet—_"

"_Streetbeat!_" Magnum shouted from the metal mound. "_And you can stick your head right in this mess and suck it, hairpiece! Hey! Watch the 'do,_" he shouted at an orange vest working a torch next to his face.

"_It would seem that no one can stop the return of the Red X. The police's newly reformed Special Crimes Unit still lacks the manpower and equipment to combat these teenaged terrors. The Justice League claims that their resources are engaged abroad, leaving them unable or unwilling to answer the cries for help ringing throughout the city. And the one question on everyone's lips remains, 'Where are the Teen Ti—'_"

Metal fingers tapped the screen's power button, banishing Hank's newscast from the room. The fingers flexed into a fist the size of a cantaloupe under the watch of their owner's mismatched eyes: one, slate and somber; the other, red and glowing.

Standing across the small room, Doctor Katherine Brown watched the enormous metal man form and reform his fist experimentally. She shook her head, making her long braid dance behind her lab coat. "Victor, I'm all but begging you to reconsider. Every one of your implants is a prototype. It's all been redesigned from the ground up. There are a million and one things that could go wrong if we don't extensively test them before field deployment."

He glanced up from his fist. "All but?" he asked.

She gave him a wan smile. "I'm an administrator. I don't beg unless money's involved. But please, Victor, in total seriousness, you will very likely die. Five-to-one odds with unproven weapons… We didn't build you a new body so you could walk out of here and commit suicide."

His human eye narrowed. His lips twisted down. "I know how new it is. I helped design it. And dying is way down there on my list of things to do." He glanced back at the blank monitor. "But the man's got a point. This 'Red X' wannabe is major trouble, and nobody else is left to do anything. So it's time to answer that question on everyone's lips."

* * *

Two figures skulked the sunny streets in red cloaks. Hoods cast their features in shadow and hid their unusual clothing from the ordinary people passing them on the sidewalk. Their passing drew little notice from other pedestrians, who were accustomed to red cloaks among them by now. In fact, another red cloaked figure approached the other two from the opposite direction.

"Bright blessings of Blood upon thee, brother and sister!" the cloaked figure said cheerily, hidden in his hood like the others.

The second figure waved, and said quickly, "Yeah, totally bloody blessings, bro." When the friendly cloak left earshot, the second figure leaned down to the first and hissed, "Okay, I feel majorly scummy for stealing these robes."

His companion didn't even turn her hood. "It's the easiest way to get around town. These cloak guys are everywhere. No one will notice us," she said.

He shivered. "I know. Creepy, right? Practically everything's rebuilt, and now there are, like, ten bajillion of these Blood guys walking around. They have a church on every street. And the pizza place is gone. Everything's changed!"

"Which is why it's important we lay low until we understand what's going on," she hissed back. "That jungle nightmare cost us an entire month with all the time-space hopping. We need to figure out what the situation is before we charge headlong anywhere."

The second figure leaned back with a sigh. Then he noticed a bald, heavyset man walking beside him, who had obviously overheard the conversation. A snaggletooth grin shone in the figure's hood as he said, "Hey, bless your blood, dude!"

The fat man walked faster, outpacing them.

The first figure rolled her eyes in the security of her hood. "And try to keep a low profile," she told her companion.

He chilled her to the bone with a smile and a thumbs up. "Hey, it's me," he assured her.

* * *

"Y'wanna tell me why we're keeping such a low profile?" Bumblebee complained as she stepped out of Herald's glowing portal. The horn blower closed his portal after her, leaving the seven of them compacted in an alley behind a downtown office building. Argent and Jericho had to move over to give the striped southern hero room to glare at their de facto leader.

Tek shuffled to the alley's mouth to glance into the street. Both the building and the concrete beneath them were exceptionally clean, a detail she noticed and filed somewhere amidst the swarm of thoughts that rattled her skull. A heavy satchel thumped against her butt, slung over her neck and shoulder by a canvas strap. "Because flying a big, shiny jet over the city seemed like a great way to get blown up," she said.

A jumble of elbows, shoulders, and "excuse me's" pushed Bushido into Tek's back. "It helps that you wrecked the jet trying to take off," he reminded her.

"I did not—!" Tek lowered her voice and forced herself to breathe. "I did not 'wreck' anything. The jet experienced a major malfunction that forced me to set it down. It hasn't been serviced in ages, it was bound to happen."

"I've never heard a major malfunction accompanied by so many occurrences of the word 'oops,'" Bushido said.

Slipping off her drab, heavy winter coat, Argent sighed in relief. Her skin glittered in the sunny California winter, which felt like paradise after over a week on the tundra. "I'm just glad we're back to a temperature that isn't lower than the number of penguins you can see out your window. So what's the plan, love?"

Kid Devil winced as Jericho crushed his toes with an errant step. "Step One should probably be finding some elbow room," he suggested.

No immediate danger lurked outside of the alley, so Tek stepped out and waved for them to follow. While her bizarre parade of recruits poured onto the sidewalk, she stepped back and marveled at what the city had become in her absence. The construction zones and disarray she remembered were gone. Gleaming new faces covered the buildings that she had personally watched being demolished. The whole city shone with a sense of newness that dazzled her.

She staggered back, astonished, and murmured, "It's all new. Everything."

"Oh, yeah. This is a real hotbed of crisis. I'm glad we spent a month getting ready for this," Bumblebee said dryly, and glanced at Tek. "Seriously, are we going to have to quit again?"

Herald scratched his head with his horn. "I have to admit, this place looks less imperiled than I was expecting. Wasn't this all supposed to be tore up?"

Sensing Tek's shock, Bushido stepped between her and the rest of them. "Please. I was here, and witnessed the disarray plaguing the city. Though repairs have been affected, I have no doubt that the danger is yet present. Tek is merely surveying the situation in order to better gauge our best course of action. Aren't you?"

Tek said nothing until Bushido subtly jabbed her with his elbow. "What? Oh! Right. Um…okay. Things are obviously better than I thought, and that's good. But that doesn't mean there's no trouble. We should split up and run a patrol of the city."

"Excellent!" Bushido decreed. "It will allow us to assess the city, search for trouble, and establish a presence all at once."

"Uh, yeah. What Ryuko said." She drew her communicator. "I'll scan for other Titan IDs. It's a long shot, but someone else might have answered my call. The rest of you—"

The sharp rapport of weapons drew all eyes to the west, where a plume of smoke stood up above the new skyline. Windows rattled with distant explosions. Sirens cried warning. And the lump of fear permanently residing in Tek's gut tightened itself into a baseball that her monster grasped and hurled. As she watched the smoke spread above the city, her throat stung with pre-vomit.

"Someone's playing our song," Herald said, and spun his horn. "We'd better head over and change their tune." He felt five separate looks of identical disgust, and retorted, "What? I can't make bad jokes too?"

Bumblebee shrank, sprouting gossamer wings in the transformation. "Let's just go beat the bad guys before someone tries to out-suck Mal," she suggested.

She and Argent took to the air as Herald led the others into the street. As Bushido followed, he noticed that Tek did not. He paused, and doubled back. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Tek looked up from the plastic bottle in her hands. A small white pill disappeared into her lips. "Hmm? Yeah. No, uh, yeah. I'm fine." Stuffing the bottle back into her belt, she took an uncertain step toward him.

His hand pressed against her shoulder, keeping her in the full effect of his glare. "You cannot afford doubt now, Tek. Doubt will kill one of your teammates as surely as if you deliver the stroke yourself."

A thin smile flashed in her lips. "Bushido, I'm fine. No more doubt. That's why we trained, right?"

"I am not inquiring. And I am not so easily placated," he said, and killed her smile with an upthrust eyebrow. "You are frightened. Fear has its place on the battlefield, but it cannot lead. You must command it, not the other way around."

Tek took his hand from her shoulder. His fingers felt strong and warm. She fought a blush as she wondered what a clammy mess her own grasp must have been. But she said, "Ryuko, I'm a basket case. I really am. But as long as you guys need me…as long as I still have to get this to Cyborg," she said, and patted the heavy satchel slung at her side, "I'm not quitting."

Bushido searched her face for an endless second. He nodded. "Very well," he said.

Blue-white light flashed behind Tek, only to be consumed by a wave of technology that swallowed her and her satchel whole. When the last of her armor fell into place, she towered over Bushido. She scooped him up with one hand and lumbered into a sprint that would catch them up to her recruits. "Let's move 'em out, Ry."

Bushido flipped and perched upon her shoulders, and steadied himself with a hand on her helmet. "Yippee-ki-yay," he deadpanned.

* * *

The doors of the Bank of Perez vomited gouts of fire, blackening the sidewalk and framing Red X in glowing destruction. He smirked across the police task force lying in ruins on the street. Flipped police cruisers and officers writhing in pain were nothing new to him, but the sight still made him smile. "It appears your SCU is TKO, Lieutenant."

Lieutenant Smith, the grizzled commanding officer of Jump City's Special Crimes Unit, glowered at Red X. Since forming the task force dedicated to taking down "super" crime, Smith had come up against his fair share of the so-called villains of the city. They all got under his skin to some degree, but Red X had the distinct honor of being the first villain to enrage Smith. In fact, were Smith not at that moment trapped in Mammoth's meaty grip, he would have leapt down upon Red X and shoved the teen's skull mask down his throat.

"Keep talking, Halloween Freak. The longer you yap, the closer my backup gets," Smith barked.

With a burst from his jets, Gizmo hopped onto Mammoth's shoulder. He leered down at Smith with his wide, unblinking lenses, and said, "It must get really old, having us trash your little squad ever time you try to stop us."

Shimmer stood on tiptoe to grin right in Smith's face. The air around her wavered, as though she couldn't decide what to make of it. "How much does it suck to be you? Is it like being an American soccer fan, or like drinking domestic light beer?"

The gang shared a chuckle at Smith's expense. Then Red X silenced them with a gesture. They backed away as he drew upon Smith. Even Mammoth grew reverent, lowering Smith at arm's length for Red X to speak. "Lieutenant, as much amusement as you and your wholly ineffectual squad is, I'm afraid it's time we bid each other a fond farewell. Of course, we'll just assume your screams mean 'farewell' while Mammoth squeezes you until your organs ooze out your mouth like toothpaste from a tube. Language, after all, is rich and diverse. There has to be room for interpretation."

Mammoth grinned and flexed his forearms. Then he yowled when a yellow bolt struck his arm, spoiling his grip and knocking Gizmo from his shoulder. The giant growled at Smith, who rolled onto the pavement clutching his fedora. When Mammoth reached out to capture Smith again, another bolt struck the ground between them.

The source of the bolts grew into a tall, dark, yellow-clad beauty a stone's throw away, who blew the smoke off her blasters and holstered them at her curved hips. Behind her, six radically different teenagers backed her up with one shared scowl. "Honey, y'all ought'a think twice," she told Mammoth.

Kid Devil swept his hair out of his glowing eyes. "Looks like thinking 'once' might give him a hard time," he said.

As his lackeys spread out behind him, Red X stepped forward. His blank, masked eyes passed right over the scrambling hindquarters of Smith and fell upon the familiar figure looming central amidst these new faces. A thrill reawakened in his cold, dead innards. "You. You're back," he growled.

Squaring her enormous armored shoulders, Tek announced, "No, 'we're' back. Your days of treating this city like a personal playground are over, letter-face, because the New Teen Titans are here to kick your butt!"

"I didn't know circuses had fire sales," Shimmer shot, glaring at the unlikely assemblage.

Jinx raised a hand, gathering the blaze in the bank behind her into a wall of flame. "That's a setup if I ever heard one," she said. Her hand clenched. The fire erupted, flowing around her and then re-merging into a solid wave that burned down upon the so-called Titans.

"Remember," Tek called, "work together. Now GO!"

Tek and her recruits scattered around the blast of fire. The street bubbled and popped behind Tek as she willed her cannons out of her forearms. Plasma bolts sprayed into Red X's gang to return Jinx's fire in kind. The gang split, and both sides frayed into furious melee.

Stings flashed from tiny Bumblebee's blasters. She darted through the melee on gossamer wings. Her golden stings sizzled at Mammoth's neck. The energy played havoc with his nervous system, turning his locomotive charge into a lurch, perfect for her foot to find as she grew and kicked him all at once. Mammoth staggered back after bloodying Bumblebee's boot with his nose.

"Tiny is in this spring, macho man," she said, thumbing her blasters to full charge. They quivered with golden radiance aimed right down his throat.

Mammoth reached out blindly and grabbed the first substantial thing he could find. This was unfortunate for Gizmo, who stood upon the long metal stalk that Mammoth grasped. Bumblebee fared worse when Mammoth swung his towering, spidery friend into her. Both Bumblebee and Gizmo crashed into an unwilling tangle that bowled down the sidewalk.

Mammoth's scrubby beard split for a grin. "Heh. Nice teamwork, Mik," he called after Gizmo.

A pure note rattled Mammoth's skull. He tried to turn around, but the ground beneath him disappeared into a swirling vortex. As Mammoth fell out of the world, he saw the cloaked horn blower Gizmo had been fighting. Herald waved goodbye before his portal closed, trapping Mammoth in a pocket dimension.

The street rumbled and then flipped up in an enormous slab that struck the whole of Herald with bone-rattling force. Concentration fled him while he sailed back into the door of an abandoned diner. His pocket dimension destabilized and spat Mammoth out onto the ground next to him. The giant steamed and shivered, curling into a ball, his teeth chattering with the force and noise of a jackhammer.

Jinx let the levitated pavement down with a gesture and a smirk. "Magical horn. Cute. But some of us don't need foci for real magic."

Silver energy descended upon Jinx in the shape of a tremendous golf club. The club knocked the smirk out of her, replacing it with an arcing flight that she could not control. High above her chip shot, Argent dissipated her silver construct and watched Jinx soar, borrowing the witch's smirk. "And some of us can actually pull off corsets and hair dye, shagbag. No need to judge," she shouted.

Argent's elaborate knee-high boots tingled as their leather transmuted into lead. The sudden weight yanked her twenty feet straight down. She drove two deep footprints into the ground, her teeth clacking with the impact. When her eyes stopped shaking, they focused on a pale, leather-bound girl who boiled the very air with her sneer.

The straps clutching Shimmer's chest swelled as she inhaled Argent's dazed fear. "It's a good look. Let's get it bronzed," she said, and tugged the molecules of Argent's clothes toward a metallic bent.

Argent's outfit became solid bronze. Her skin puckered at the cold clutch of metal. She struggled against the heft, barely able to support the weight of her skirt anymore. Her feet remained planted in the ground while Shimmer sauntered toward her with murder in her smile.

Two bare, red feet wiped the smile from Shimmer's face as Kid Devil drove his heels through her jaw. He landed without giving the villain a second look. "You okay?" he asked Argent.

Her expression grew more pained by the second. "Tops, Red," she grunted. It took effort just to draw enough breath to speak. Her metal corset squeezed her lungs, as well as some other organs and bits that she favored. "What say we do this backwards? Get me out of my clothes, and then later you can buy me a pint."

The red demon reached for her corset, examining the situation. He hesitated. If possible, his cheeks reddened further still. "I think I can get you out. Bad news: I might get to second base."

She gasped, and wheezed, "Dig in. Fair warning, though, metal panties are about as sexy as they are comfortable."

Half a battlefield away, Red X circled the mismatched pair in white. His footfalls echoed the silence in those of Bushido, and contrasted the echoing clang of Tek's. Fingers flexing, eyes narrowed, he crouched in anticipation of their attack. "My, my. Now 'this' is exciting," he purred. "And here I was beginning to think you'd never return. You certainly took your time. Did you have a nice trip?"

"We made lots of new friends," Tek retorted.

She lunged at Red X with arms spread to capture him. Her enormous fingertips barely brushed the edge of his cape as he sprang above her clumsy embrace. Impact thunked on her back. When his hand pulled away from her armor, it revealed a jagged cross that he had adhered between her shoulders.

The x erupted electrically, scrambling her armor's circuits. Tek fell to her knees with a scream, her metal legs ringing against the sidewalk. Her arms fell dead at her sides. Inside, messages flashed in her HUD, warning her of the necessary reboot that worked to correct the problem, even while it left her a helpless target.

Red X had no time to admire his immobile handiwork. He summoned red blades from his gauntlet to protect himself from Bushido's flashing katana. A deadly blow slid off his blade, allowing him to chase Bushido back with a sweep of his foot. Red X rubbed his neck where the blow would have landed. "Now how am I supposed to stand trial without a head?" he asked teasingly.

Unflappable serenity remained on Bushido's features. "My apologies. Old habits die hard," he said, and struck again. This time his attacks came less lethally, but no less enthusiastically.

"Shame," Red X said, and stepped into their renewed battle. He flung a handful of tiny crosses, which Bushido twisted around and responded with a spray of caltrops. Both warriors danced between the sharp weapons as they traded near-misses.

While X's suit gave him the advantage of speed, Bushido held his own with superior skill. But superior skill fell to surprise when a revived Mammoth appeared behind Bushido. The swordsman disappeared in Mammoth's grasp, and then flew through the air at a flick of Mammoth's wrists.

While Tek's vision flickered, she got an eyeful of pavement courtesy of Mammoth's boot perched on her helmet. He and X hovered over her with identical scowls. The alloy of her helmet creaked under the immense pressure, adding more warning messages to her already crowded HUD. "Gotta say, X, you were right about stickin' around. The little tin twip brought back a whole mess of fun," she heard Mammoth say.

Mammoth's fun ended then and there. A whistle lifted his smile and his eyes off of Tek. Dangerously close by, he saw a skinny little blond boy in a purple vest unpuckering his lips for a grin. Something inside the boy's hauntingly black and green eyes tugged at a deep part of Mammoth. He was too mesmerized to hear Red X gasp, "Joey?"

Contact. Jericho erupted into flesh-colored smoke that poured into Mammoth's eyes. The giant staggered back and blinked hard. "Huh. That was weird. Wait, wha—"

Before he could stop himself, Mammoth dropped to his knees and slammed his head against the sidewalk. His forehead cracked the concrete with a sound like a gunshot. His eyes lolled and closed. He slumped forward, unconscious.

Then, just as quickly, Mammoth was on his feet again with a chipper expression and blood dribbling down his forehead. He grinned. "I like this one. He's strong. Strong's easy. But not on you, Super X," he said, turning on Red X.

Red X backed away from Mammoth with his hands raised. "Joey, wait," he said, wide-eyed. "It's me! It's Grant!"

Mammoth stopped cold. He goggled Red X, listening to the reverberating name. His lips wrapped around the syllable, squeezing it out slowly and carefully. "Grant?" Then he scowled, and shouted it: "GRANT!"

A ham-sized fist parted the air where Red X had been. X jumped high to avoid Mammoth's lumbering swing, which he knew could bring down a building if it landed. Acrobatic flips carried X ahead of Mammoth's clutches, if only barely. "Joey, don't do this. These people aren't what you think. They killed Dad!"

The ground shattered behind Red X's leap. Mammoth pulled his fingers out of the crumbling pavement and swung after nimble X, spraying street from his punches. "Dad was a slimy jerk! And now you're a jerk just like him!"

"You never got it, did you?" Red X snarled. He dropped between Mammoth's clumsy grab.

"Oh, but you're gonna get it. Hold still!" Mammoth barked. "Family or not—"

Red X vanished from his sight. Mammoth stopped and scratched his head, confused. He didn't find X again until he felt sticky pressures slap his temples. Small gray domes clung to his skull and started singing unbearable agony into Mammoth with force enough to bring him to his knees.

Regret steeped Red X's voice as he landed and watched Mammoth clutch the smooth domes he'd affixed to Mammoth's skull. "Give it up, Joey. Those are sonic grenades. If you don't get out, they'll scramble Mammoth's brains with you inside. I know a little goody-goody like you couldn't stand that."

Fleshy smoke poured out of Mammoth's clenched eyes. It congealed on the sidewalk into a dizzy Jericho on his hands and knees. Red X planted his boot in Jericho's curly hair, putting the boy's face to sidewalk. Then he remembered to deactivate the sonic grenades on Mammoth. "Shake it off, Mammoth. We have work to do," he said.

If Mammoth could have steadied his shaking eyes, he would have folded X like an accordion. As it was, he found enough coordination to pull the grenades from his temples and grip them into powder. His vision returned enough to discern the wave of silver careening into his face. Then his nose folded into bloody origami against an enormous energy mallet that sent him flying.

Clad in a bodysuit of her silver energy, Argent darted overhead, pulling back her mallet construct. "Lay off of Jericho, creeps!" she yelled.

Pink hex snared Argent in midair, twisting physics with pure bad luck. Argent screamed as her flight accelerated out of control. Both her scream and her flight bounced off a brick building façade, and then spiraled to the ground for a crash that made Jinx flinch, regardless of her culpability in the matter. "Hurt and naked. That had to suck," she said of the bodysuit vaporizing off Argent's body.

Bumblebee saw Argent's swan dive to the pavement. Her blasters drove Gizmo back long enough for her to withdraw from their fight. She sped toward Argent as fast as her wings could carry her, aiming for Jinx's back. "Hang on, sparkles! The Bee's about to kick some 'A.'"

An electro-net manifested between Gizmo's hands. He gave it a push, projecting it after Bumblebee. The net snatched her out of the air and carried her into the same building Argent had struck. "Kick that, bug butt!" Gizmo snarked. Screams answered him as his net dumped its electrical charge into Bumblebee, forcing her back to her original size and robbing her of consciousness.

A swirling portal opened in the bricks. Herald emerged, hooking his horn over his arm so both hands were free. He grabbed a limb each of Bumblebee and Argent. Wincing, he dragged them both toward his portal. His progress slowed considerably when the sidewalk beneath him softened into a pool of quicksand. Herald cried out and released the girls to save them from the sinkhole swallowing him up to his stomach. He tried to reach his horn, but it was submerged beneath the sand, and then trapped when the sand hardened back into sidewalk.

Shimmer rounded the corner of the building with a grin. "You're sunk, Little Boy Blue," she said.

Herald groaned. "Will you knock me out already? Anything but that old—"

She obliged him with her boot.

"Hang on, guys!" Kid Devil cried. He bounded toward his teammates, tail swishing, hair flying, bouncing off of cars and streetlights. "This fearsome five is no match for…uh, why aren't there five of you?" As he landed, he counted Red X, Shimmer, Jinx, and Gizmo, all sneering delightedly at something behind him. When a tremendous shadow fell over him from behind, he slumped, and said, "Oh."

Red X watched Mammoth hurl the last of the new Titans into the wall. A snap of his fingers commanded Gizmo into action. Summoning a new device from his pack, Gizmo fashioned a shimmering containment field over the five would-be heroes.

The longest two minutes of Tek's life finally ended with her armor's reactivation. She hoisted herself out of her shapely crater. When she saw her recruits trapped under Gizmo's green bubble, it took extreme effort to keep her stomach from rebooting as well. "No! Guys, hold on!"

One step. One step was all Tek got before Jinx's hex and Gizmo's protonics smashed her chest. She felt weightless as the world spun backwards around her. Then she felt agony when a brick wall stopped her cold. The warning messages in her HUD grew larger and louder. She tried to shake them away, but every movement of her head sent pain spiking down her spine. It was all she could do to look up at Red X, who hovered above her flashing HUD.

"Well, this has been fun," said X, gesturing back to her trapped recruits. He planted a foot on her dented chest and leaned down. "I'll tell you what. If you run away again now, I might just let you go. But you have to promise to bring back more playmates."

"I like the gray one!" Mammoth called, leering openly at Argent's nakedness. "Bring back more of those, will ya?"

Red X had to pull his foot off Tek's chest when the armor split into a million interconnected components. Grinding servos pulled Tek's armor into her back, where it disappeared in a flash, leaving Tek's bruises and scowl unprotected. She laid atop a metal box that jabbed painfully into her spine. Her glare drifted down as she mumbled something.

With an unseen grin, Red X cupped where his ear would be. "Come again?"

Squaring her glare and her jaw, Tek said, "Go to hell. I won't run away again. I shouldn't have run in the first place. So just kill me already. I don't need to sit here and die from a gloating overdose."

"Giving up that easily?" Red X sounded genuinely surprised as he stood back. His gauntlet rearranged into a small cannon. Red lightning arced inside its barrel, punctuating his smug voice with a crackle. "Then I guess the Titans really are gone."

Both Red X and Tek were astonished when she laughed in his face. "Please. All you did here was beat a wannabe and some people that were dumb enough to try and help her. Sorry, guys," she called back to Gizmo's containment bubble.

"Buh…wha?" said Bumblebee, the most conscious of the bunch.

"But the real Titans will come back and kick that X right off your face. And even if they don't, there'll be others. Others like them," Tek said with another nod to the bubble. "People willing to stand up to a putz like you. The Titans are more than a team. They'll be around a long time after I'm gone."

Red X laughed. He laughed so hard that he doubled over, forgetting the electro-cannon on his wrist. "And people call me clichéd? That was just precious! Just the right combination of impotent anger and righteousness. Oh!" Gasping, he straightened, wiping at his mask as if to clear away a tear.

Shaky strength remained in Tek's scowl. "You're only laughing because you don't get it. The Titans are bigger than you, me, them, or anybody. And I'll never run away from that again. Because no matter what, Titans stand together."

The electro-cannon's aim returned to Tek's scowl, wiping it clean. Red X stood behind it, smiling secretly under his mask. His aim drifted lower to Tek's body. "Let's see you stand with anybody when you don't have any legs," he said.

Blue sound enveloped Red X from the waist up. His bones rattled against each other while the sonic stream swept him off the ground. His teeth resonated like tuning forks. Metal crunched when the stream deposited him two feet into a parked car without opening the door. There, he lolled against the faux leather interior, trying to put back together his smug expression.

All eyes followed the waning sonic stream back to its source. Hope and confusion sprang anew in Tek at the sight of the impossibly tall figure at the end of the block. Dozens of questions escaped her breathless lips in a single word. "Cyborg?"

This wasn't the Cyborg she remembered. This Cyborg had no blue circuitry in his alloy, which glistened with newness. He stood taller and wider than ever. There was obvious strength to spare in his new muscles. His sonic cannon mechamorphed back into a right hand, which he clenched into a fist at the flabbergasted four villains remaining.

"It's been a while, so I'll say this nice and loud," he told them. "BOOYAH!"

Gizmo snarled incoherent obscenities and turned his pack into a pair of bat-like metal wings. A black contrail followed him into the air, where he sprouted a baker's dozen cannons, all aimed at Cyborg. "Nice tin, robo-noob. Let's test it!"

Curling his arms, Cyborg unfolded his elbows. Machine cannons sprouted from the openings to shriek thunder and spit shells. Casings sprang from his biceps and jangled at his feet.

The attack caught Gizmo unaware with hammer blows. Wherever the shells struck, they detonated into pink foam that clung to his jumpsuit. Gizmo screamed and clawed at the foam, succeeding only in covering his hands in the stuff. It clogged his jets and covered him whole, and then hardened into a comical sphere, which he rode screaming all the way to the ground. He bounced once and then rolled, unable to move in the enormous foam sphere.

"Crud!" he screamed before rolling onto his face.

While Cyborg retracted his machine cannons, Jinx gathered together the mother of all hexes. Mammoth stood beside her, cracking his knuckles. "Nice entrance. Now how about a sendoff to match?" Jinx asked.

Ebony ether formed a cylinder around Jinx and Mammoth. The witch's hex vanished into impossible blackness, which contracted around the pair until they were pressed together. Their arms and legs trapped, they could only scream in frustration as Raven rode a billowing red cloak down from the rooftop.

"I thought that was Cyborg I heard," Raven said.

Shimmer leapt up from behind her, ready to transmute the saline in Raven's eyes into chlorine. "Hearing's all you're gonna do in a second, bitch," she shot.

The tail of a green Utahraptor in an ill-fitting red cloak struck Shimmer from behind. She bounced off Gizmo's containment bubble and backed into the fist of a green gorilla in a slightly less ill-fitting cloak. As she slumped to the sidewalk, the gorilla shrank and pushed back the hood of his still-not-quite-right cloak to reveal handsome features cast in forest green. "That's not fair. You should get to know Raven first. Then you can call her a bitch," Beast Boy teased.

Tek's mouth flapped, trying to find words to fill it while Cyborg, Raven, and Beast Boy surrounded her. Three helping hands reached down to pull her to her feet. She tried to take them all. "You…you guys came back? You guys are back!"

"Well, yeah," Cyborg said with a smile. "I've been stuck for a month with nothing to do but watch the news. It's a real mess around here."

Throwing off his cloak, Beast Boy unveiled a bare chest of muscles and five inches of height he definitely hadn't possessed before. His voice was deeper, his hair, shaggier. Tek actually felt herself blushing at the sight of him while he goggled Cyborg. "Vic! What happened to you? You're so…shiny!"

"Me? What the hell happened to you? You look like an underwear ad," Cyborg exclaimed.

Raven removed her red cloak and hood, revealing her blue cloak and hood already in place. "Maybe the reunion should wait. We need to free Tek's friends and pound this new Fearsome Five into the ground first."

Awash with the sound of grinding metal and blue-white light, Tek hid her smile behind her grille. Her massive hands rolled into fists. "Sounds good," she said, trying to keep her tears out of her voice.

Rending metal drew their attention across the street. A car door flew off its hinges, allowing Red X to explode back onto the battlefield. Gizmo burst from the pink foam ball with his spidery stalks. Fiery hex cracked the soul-cylinder, freeing Jinx and Mammoth. And Shimmer groggily picked herself back up. As his gang reassembled around him, Red X scowled delightedly at the returned Titans. "Yes," he purred. "Yes! This is exactly what I wanted."

Cyborg placed his massive new self between his friends and the assembling villains. "Okay, guys. Everything old is new again. Stay tight, keep together, and let's show these clowns what they've been missing. Titans—"

"Together!" Tek cried reflexively. When the others looked back at her, she clapped her hands over her grille. "I'm sorry. It's something I was doing with the new guys. Y'know, teamwork. I—"

"I kinda like it," Beast Boy said.

"It doesn't sound bad," admitted Raven.

Cyborg never got to voice his opinion. He noticed their shadows disappearing into pink light. Hex, fire, protonics, and a flying car hurtled at them all at once. With one shout, he scattered his team and united them again: "**Titans Together!**"

Tremors in the pavement bounced Kid Devil's head. He stirred, groaning, and pulled his face out of the sidewalk. What he saw outside their bubble prison made his ember eyes flare. He reached out and tapped the first recruit he could find. "Hey. Hey!"

Bumblebee moaned and chased his hand away from her thigh. "Watch the hands, KD," she mumbled.

"Bee, you've gotta see this. Everybody! Look!"

Cyborg and Jinx circled each other, trading sonics and magic. The former shot wide around Jinx's lithe acrobatics. The latter hammered Cyborg's armor, bringing him to one knee. His cannon reverted into a hand to clutch his side while he grimaced.

"Look at that. Magic trumps machine," Jinx sang.

Black ether formed a claw around Jinx. She yelped as the claw twisted her around to face Raven. The sorceress hung in the air, eyes ablaze with the arcane, hands raised to conduct her soul-self. "Maybe. But real magic trumps crappy community college magic."

With a gesture, she commanded her soul-claw to shove Jinx facedown into a mail box on the street corner. Jinx hung out of the tiny slot, her striped stockings dangling limply down the front of the box.

Mammoth's fist flashed at Raven. She recalled her soul-self into a shield just in time to feel her insides rattle with the force of his punch. He hit again and again, driving her back. The impossible blackness of her shield became less impossible with every blow. "And muscles beat magic, geek," crowed Mammoth.

Someone tapped Mammoth on the shoulder. He turned around, looked down, and caught Tek's armored fist on his chin. As he rocketed up, she called after him, "So machine muscles must trump everything!"

Shimmer turned the street into an oil slick, making things difficult for the green cat landing before her. The cat's paws went in every direction but down. It fell onto its stomach and morphed into Beast Boy. "Oh, come on! I've already fought you!" he groused.

"I bet some acid'll take the fight out of you," she sneered back.

With a bang, Cyborg's left hand shot from his arm, trailing a thick cable behind it. An instant before it struck Shimmer, its fingers extended into weighted lines that wrapped around her slender chest, pinning her arms to her sides. Shimmer yelped as Cyborg yanked the cable, dragging her into the air. He spun her hard until she swung into Jinx, who was trying to get up.

"Or take you out of the fight," he retorted.

An enormous metal stalk kicked Cyborg through a shop window. Atop the stalk, Gizmo aimed an oversized rocket launcher through the cloud of glass through which Cyborg sailed. "New package, same dweeb," he muttered.

Flapping green wings spoiled his aim. He pulled his ocular lens from the launcher's scope when he felt Beast Boy morphing human and clinging to his metal stilt frame. "Math quiz, half-pint: what number is greater than four?" Beast Boy asked.

Gizmo screamed in terror as Beast Boy's smiling face ballooned into that of a giant octopus. The mucusy creature wrapped its tentacles around Gizmo's stalks. Gears and servos broke into bits with a twist of the octopus's grip. Then the octopus shrank into a flying squirrel to chatter with laughter while Gizmo shrieked and toppled from his broken perch.

"No, it's not 'girly scream.' It's 'eight,'" Beast Boy chided him upon landing. "Zero points."

Red elastic bands crisscrossed Beast Boy, wrapping him up like a mummy. He teetered and fell onto his chin, already trying to shift into an animal that could burst from the bonds. A similar red cross struck Raven from the air. It wrapped around her mouth, cutting off her incantation. Electrified crosses punched Cyborg and Tek each in the back, flooding their circuitry with blinding pain. Both Titans fell to their knees, echoing each other's groan.

A black shape took form between them, becoming the haughty Red X. "Do you see? Do you see how things have changed? Send in more Titans. Send a thousand!" he shouted in Cyborg's face. "You all need to learn who is in charge here. You need to learn respect!"

Another shape, this one pristine white, wove between Red X and the Titans too fast to follow. Metal flashed, severing the bonds around Raven and Beast Boy, and prying the electrodes from Tek and Cyborg. When X's eyes caught up, they found Bushido standing just out of arm's reach with his sword propped on his shoulder. "You need to learn to count," he said.

Red X snarled, and then gagged as Cyborg seized him by the throat. Cyborg lifted him from the ground, blinking static from his optics, and said, "You probably chose that costume to make us hesitate. Maybe put a scare in us. But you screwed up. I know you're not Robin, and even if you were, he needs a good ass-kicking anyway. So that makes you two times a loser."

"Heads up!" Beast Boy shouted, peeling the red binding off his legs. He shrank into a sparrow that darted into the air to avoid the blast of fire Jinx flung at him.

Mammoth barreled at the tight Titan group with his head lowered. His skull lined up with Cyborg, who dropped Red X at the sight of the lumbering giant. The pavement quaked with his charge. "Comin' through," Mammoth bellowed.

Winding up, Cyborg answered Mammoth's charge with a full-bodied punch. Everything he had piled behind his knuckles as he drove them deep into the coppery folds of Mammoth's hair. Both his fist and Mammoth stopped cold, quaking at the point of impact. Cyborg felt servos in his hand pop, and shook their backups online while he watched Mammoth slump to the ground.

"No you ain't," Cyborg quipped.

Wavering air billowed behind Shimmer as she charged Raven. "Hope you like heavy metal, goth freak, 'cause I'm gonna 'mute your blood into mercury."

So focused was Shimmer's narrow scowl that she didn't see the bus hovering overhead in a skin of soul-self. The black bus cracked like an egg at Raven's command: "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos." Shimmer screamed and noticed at once when the bus halves swooped down and crashed around her, trapping her in a slamming jumble of seats and metal.

"Yap, yap, yap," Raven grumbled at Shimmer, who crawled woozily from a broken window in the bus. "Fighting is fine, but please, just shut up and do it."

Gizmo giggled as Raven settled into his sights. He and his plethora of weapons squealed in anticipation of turning the sorceress into a smear. But quaking pavement spoiled his aim. "Hey, what's the…deal?" He looked back, and up, and up at Tek, who stood over him. Her forearms sprouted cannons that bathed Gizmo's stunned stare with heat as they powered up.

"Noooo, no," she scolded him. "Bad villain. Bad!"

Both of them were momentarily distracted when Jinx plummeted next to them. She struggled fruitlessly in the clutches of a thick green python. "Get…off…me…!" she gasped. The distraction left Gizmo wide open, allowing Tek to flick him in the forehead, knocking him out with a fraction of her strength.

Red X balanced atop a streetlight and watched a month of anticipation fall apart. "No! This isn't happening!" he shouted. He pulled a red cross marked with an orange stripe from his belt. His scowl fell upon Tek, whose back proved too tempting a target. "You…" he snarled.

Sharp, foxy eyes spotted X and his x when no one else's did. The mind behind them raced as quickly as the feet beneath them, which carried all of him straight at Cyborg. His sword swung in his grasp, coming to bear. "Cyborg, alley-oop!" he shouted.

The shout turned Cyborg. Up until now, the battle had kept his attention away from lingering on any of Tek's recruits, least of all this latecomer. Now his memory clicked with the face and sword running at him. He faltered, and said, "You? What the hell—?"

Instinct guided Cyborg through the maneuver as Bushido jumped onto his outstretched hand. Cyborg heaved him skyward, where Bushido flipped and stretched. His fingertips caught the edge of the cross flung by Red X, and then flung it back into the light pole upon which the villain perched. The pole and X vanished into a blossom of fire that tossed Bushido hard across the battlefield.

Bushido landed in Tek's waiting arms. It wasn't a soft landing, but she cradled his fall, and even smothered the embers in his hair with a metallic pinch. "Nice save, Bushido," she said as she set him down and completely missed Raven and Beast Snake's looks of horror. The shock of seeing Tek and Bushido (and a friendly Bushido at that) reverted Beast Boy into human form.

Jinx gasped with new freedom. Her eyes burned with pink fate as she called up forceful gales to lift her and Shimmer into the air. Three more gales lifted the rest of her insensate team high overhead, where her winds combined into a miniature cyclone. Try though she might, she couldn't spot Red X anywhere.

As the winds carried them higher, she spat down upon the Titans, "This is so far from over! This is our town, losers!"

As Jinx's cyclone faded from view, the street became unnervingly calm. Tek leaned against her knees and really breathed for the first time since arriving in Jump City. Her armor retracted around her, revealing her skinny frame and the security box pressed high on her back. Cheering pulled her eyes up to the containment field and her trapped recruits. They waved their arms, except for Herald, who was still stuck in the ground.

When Cyborg's fingertips touched the field with a countermeasure pulse, the bubble burst, freeing her recruits and making their cheers all the louder. Every one of them, again excluding Herald, rushed out to meet the heroes whose name they had sought to carry on.

Tears rimmed Tek's eyes as she smiled at Bushido, Raven and Beast Boy. As she gazed at the circle of Titans growing around her , she couldn't help but laugh. "I'm so glad you guys are okay. All of you. And I have so much to…" She trailed off when she noticed Beast Boy and Raven glaring at Bushido. Both Titans were tensed and ready for more battle. Bushido just smiled at them both and sheathed his sword.

"That was unbelievable!" Kid Devil exclaimed. His ember gaze bounced between Beast Boy and Raven, unsure of which one to gape at first.

Even Bumblebee grinned from behind her folded arms. "Not bad," she admitted dryly.

Wearing a simple shift made from her energy, Argent slapped Tek and Bushido on the back. "Looks like the new team has their star players here, eh?"

Cyborg pushed through the recruits and grabbed Bushido by the back of his keikogi. The teal belt snapped from his waist with one tug from Cyborg, taking with it his blade. "Tek, would you mind explaining why this sack of crap is here?" Cyborg snapped.

The circle fell silent. Confusion killed the joy in Tek's tears. "Th-that's Bushido. He's one of the people—"

"He's a murderer," Raven uttered bitterly.

"And a psycho!" added Beast Boy.

Smiling and dangling, Bushido said, "And an honorary Titan."

* * *

Back in the halls of S.T.A.R. Labs, Cyborg shook the hands of the newest batch of honorary Titans. He had barely seen them in action, and wondered about them just by virtue of seeing them. But they all had one thing in common that, for Cyborg, made them worthy of the Titan title hands-down. "You sure you guys don't need a ride home? We could probably put something together in a couple of hours," he said.

Herald spun his horn nervously. "Thanks, but I got this one. Besides, I want to get out of here before Tek explains what happened to your plane. One at a time, everybody," he called to the line.

"Take care, Mister Roboto," Bumblebee said with a wink while Herald trumpeted up her way home. "When there's trouble, y'all know who to call."

Portal by portal, Herald summoned ways home for the honoraries. Bumblebee and Jericho went first. Argent and Kid Devil lingered as they left, both exceedingly fascinated by their respective toes.

"So, um…thanks for getting me out of my metal knickers," said Argent. She wore a set of S.T.A.R. Labs' sweat clothes and a blush that went all the way to her bone.

Kid Devil tried to keep the swish out of his tail. "Well, you know," he mumbled.

Scowling, she punched him in the arm. "Don't make a big deal out of it. It probably won't happen again." Then, as Herald opened her London portal, she jumped onto her toes and pressed a black impression of her lips onto Kid Devil's cheek. "Bye," she said breathlessly, and flew through the portal.

Herald had to shove dumbstruck Kid Devil through the next portal. When he opened a last one for himself, he paused, and said to Cyborg, "Watch out for Tek, will you? She's a good kid, but she needs a lot of help. A lot."

"I will," Cyborg said, and waved goodbye.

Once the portal closed behind Herald, he strolled down the hall, putting off the talk he knew was coming. On the way back to the lab, he spied Beast Boy wrestling with a vending machine. Someone had found a sweatshirt, which his new jaw line made into a fashion statement.

"Yo, Salad Head," said Cyborg.

When Beast Boy looked up, it took him an extra second for Cyborg to recognize the lean, lithe shapeshifter as his best friend. If Cyborg didn't know the goofy kid underneath the looks, he might have been jealous. Beast Boy had changed considerably, possessing extra height and new muscle. But when he spoke, even through his deeper voice, his old self rang true. "Hey, Tin Butt," he said.

Cyborg scratched his neck in search of a delicate way to phrase his question. "Gar, what the hell happened to you? I mean, you look okay—you look pretty good—great, even, in a dudely sort of way…" He sighed and grasped his face. "Are you okay?"

Beast Boy looked into the distance, leaving Cyborg and the hallway without moving an inch. Whatever he had seen, whatever he was seeing now, Cyborg hoped he never saw it too. When he came back, Beast Boy managed a small smile. "Ask me again some other time, huh?"

With a nod and a slap on Beast Boy's shoulder, Cyborg left the shapeshifter to his wrestling match with the vending machine. Beast Boy's arm vanished once more into the flap at the bottom, seeking to dislodge the Milky Way dangling from the bottom row. His fingers brushed the very edge of the wrapper, tantalizing him, teasing him.

"C'mon," he grunted, twisting his head to one side to shove his shoulder further in. The metal bit into his arm. His stomach rumbled, demanding that he get his candy. "C'mon! I paid for it, and I want it. Now **give it up**!"

He felt the bar close in his grasp. Crying with glee, he slithered his arm from the flap and looked down at his prize. Then he gasped.

A serpent's head stared back at him where his hand should have been. His entire arm up to the edge of his rolled sleeve was a twisting, rippling python, spotted with all shades of jungle green. The serpent stared at him with yellow eyes, its tongue darting out around the candy bar squeezed in its jaw.

Beast Boy stared back. He shut his eyes hard, and then opened them. A normal hand sat at the end of a normal arm, holding a delicious candy bar. Horrified, he turned the hand over, making sure it had skin instead of scales. He looked around in a panic, praying that no one saw what he hoped had been imaginary.

Cyborg was already around the corner. He walked down the hall with a slowing stride. When the hall tilted to one side, he realized how long it had been since he had recharged. Or slept. Hunger gnawed at his new stomach. Fatigue blinked in his battery indicator. If today was any indication, this was the first of many long days to come. Part of him felt grateful for that. Part of him.

A single chair sat outside the lab. Cyborg was surprised to find Raven in it. She hunched over the edge of her seat in a heap of her own cloak, and pulled back her hood at his approach. Dark circles hung under her eyes. Her legs wobbled when she stood.

"Is she in there?" Cyborg asked. Raven nodded. "Good. You should find a bed. You look like you could use it."

She nodded again, looking down to avoid his gaze. But when he tried to enter the lab, her outstretched arm kept him in the hall. "Wait," she whispered.

Cyborg paused, waiting for her to speak. A minute passed in silence. "Raven?" he asked.

Raven bit her lip. She looked down either direction of the hall until she was absolutely certain they were alone. Then she sprang forward and wrapped her arms around Cyborg's waist. Her head rested against his chest. For a second, Cyborg wondered if Raven was tired to the point of collapse, and why she hadn't simply sat down. But then it dawned on him.

"Raven? Are we hugging?"

She didn't answer right away, and when she did, her voice was husky. "I've been thinking lately about how important it is for us all to stay together. And that maybe I need to do more to show all of you that I feel…that way. Even though I can't always show you that. Because I do feel…that way."

Cyborg stared a hole through her twilight crown. "You died, didn't you? You died, and pod people replaced you. You and Gar. It's okay, you can tell me."

Something that might generously be called a chuckle stuttered briefly from Raven's throat. "Just hug me," she murmured, pressing her cheek into the cool metal of his chest. She felt Cyborg's strong embrace envelop her, and closed her eyes to keep her cheeks dry. When she finally felt ready to let go, she made her face stern and looked up at Cyborg. "That won't be a habit," she told him.

He traded nods and smiles, and then pushed through the lab door.

Inside, the scene was almost exactly as he'd imagined. Starfire lay in her bed, bathed in sunlamps, wrapped in a simple hospital gown. A month of rest had done wonders for her body. No visible scars remained from her epic fight. The respirator tube was gone from her throat. Her chest rose and fell on its own now. Smaller tubes fed and bled liquids through her sallow gold skin. She was beautiful, and heartbreaking.

Tek rose from her bedside. The heavy security box bounced against her hip from the strap over her shoulder. Her sad face plunged into despair at his entrance. "Cyborg, I am so sorry," she stammered before he could say anything.

He smiled thinly. "It's okay. Lieutenant Smith took Bushido into custody and tossed his ass into a holding cell. The little bastard didn't even put up a fight."

She kept on babbling as if she'd never heard him. "I had no idea he was an assassin, or that he'd jammed a knife in your eye, I swear. I should have known. I should have known! But I never flashed on him, or whatever it is my brain does. I didn't know. I should have—"

Cyborg pushed his finger into her lips. "It's. Oh. Kay," he said. "I'm just glad you're safe. And, actually, I'm…"

When he trailed off, she lifted her watery eyes off the floor, and saw Cyborg staring at the box at her side. Hurriedly, she ducked under the strap and offered him the box. "Here. This is yours," she said.

He took the box, stunned. "Thanks. I can't believe you hauled this all over with you," he murmured.

"Yeah, well… At first, I didn't think it was important. Just something you had me fetch to get rid of me. But then I thought, 'well, maybe it is important!' It had its own safe, right? And maybe you were just testing me, seeing if I could really be a Titan."

Tek's smile grew sad. She let her gaze drift back to Starfire's morbid slumber. The idea that she could be half the hero Starfire was made her want to laugh and cry.

Through wobbly tears, she said, "But then I realized that either way, you were right. Raven was right. I'm not good enough to be a Titan. And when it all fell to me, I just wanted to keep things going until a real Titan came to take over. The best thing I could do was to just keep everything going until they…_you_ came back."

Cyborg stared at the box as he let Tek's admission sink in. He sent a silent signal to the box's internal lock. It opened with a click that pulled Tek's teary gaze back. Cyborg opened the box and held it out to Tek. "Take a look," he told her.

Tek held her breath and looked inside. Then she exhaled. "Paper?' she asked flatly.

"Yep."

"A piece of paper? Just one? That thing weighted a ton!" she exploded. "I hauled that stupid box all over just for one piece of idiot paper? I thought it was a computer core, or a super-weapon!"

A chuckle shook Cyborg's stomach. He held the box toward her again and said, "Take a look."

Exasperated, Tek pulled the single piece of paper out of the box. The three words written in bold across the top dulled the edge in her voice. "This I Vow," she read slowly. Five short paragraphs followed the words in smaller font. And down at the bottom, six scrawled names consumed a quarter of the page. She read each signature aloud. "Robin. Cyborg. Starfire. Raven. Beast Boy. Terra."

"It's the Titans Charter," Cyborg explained. "When we started out, the five of us wrote down the one thing we wanted to stand for. We all signed it."

The tears Tek had been fighting finally won. An entire month caught up to her, dragging her into the pit in her stomach she'd been teetering into all this time. Her chin dropped to her chest as she hiccupped a sob. "I've been trying so hard. It's too hard, Vic. When I try to be better, my head gets so loud. I…I've been…"

She tore open the pouch on her belt and showed him the bottle she'd taken from the Icarus's cabinet. A few white pills remained, rattling as her hands shook.

"I'm doing it again. I tried, but it's just too hard. I keep doing things like this," she whimpered, rattling the bottle. Her ruddy cheeks ran slick. She couldn't even look at Cyborg. "You were right. I need help."

Cyborg stared at the bottle in her hand. It took him a second to recognize it. When he did, he struggled to keep his reaction muted. "If those are keeping you from going berserk, it might be a good idea to keep some around. I'll…talk to Doctor Brown about getting you a prescription."

"Yeah…"

Unable to put it off any longer, Cyborg resolved himself to do what he came to do. "I'm sorry. I was wrong before, when I tried pawning you off on Social Services. You're our problem, not theirs." When she hiccupped another sob, Cyborg said, "Tek, look at the Charter. Read the last paragraph."

She sniffed hard and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Her other hand lifted the paper to her watery eyes. "Once a Titan, always a Titan," she read. "Vic, I don't get—"

She looked up and gasped at the pen in Cyborg's hand. He pushed it at her. "I heard what you said to Red X, or that jackass dressed like him, or whatever. And you were right. The Titans are bigger than all of us. But you're wrong, too. The Titans wouldn't exist without the people who make it. Whether it's five, or seven, or fifty, or just one. It can't exist without people like us."

Tek stumbled back from the pen. A terrified look wrought her face. "I don't…I…"

"You still need help. A lot of help. And you're going to get it, I promise," Cyborg said. His pen did not budge. His gaze settled coolly beneath her tears.

She sniffed and laughed an ugly laugh. "Vic, I'm a basket case. You were right before. I can't."

His pen didn't budge.

"You can't mean it," Tek said, refusing to get her hopes up. "The Titans are—"

"Us," he said firmly. "An outcast, a refugee, a monster, a half-wit…"

He laid the pen in her hand and closed her fingers around it.

"And a basket case."

Tek stared at the Charter. She laid it against the wall. With a shaky hand, she scrawled three letters at the bottom of the page. The pen moved as if it were mired in cold peanut butter. She finished her name and let her heavy arm drop to her side, suddenly exhausted. Her burning lungs reminded her to breathe.

"You've earned it," Cyborg said. "You stuck with it, no matter how hard things got. You came back. So it's the least we can do to stick with you. That's what Titans do, right? Stick together."

His eyes wandered from the uncomfortable sight of Tek crying and smiling. Down at the bottom of the security box, he spied a smear of color against the flat gray metal. He reached in and pulled out an old photograph that had been stuck to the bottom underneath the Charter.

Reading the Charter through her tears, Tek asked, "Vic? Does this mean we're the Teen Titans again? I mean, we're really gonna stay here? Even if it is fixed, the city's a real mess."

Cyborg lost himself in the photo. Five young teenagers stared back at him with frozen smiles. The teens stood atop a bluff against a backdrop of glistening tower, their faces stretched with the exhilaration of taking an entire city into their care. He couldn't help but wonder, if they knew what he knew, would they have stuck through it like he did? Would they take the bad with the good, and think it was all worthwhile?

"Vic?" Tek asked.

Cyborg smiled.

**To Be Continued**

* * *

And that wraps it up for the first story arc of Teen Titans: Adaptation. I hope everyone's enjoying the story so far. It's been a lot of fun to write, and even more fun to publish regularly.

Speaking of which, I'll be taking (at least) a week off before starting up the new story arc. In the meantime, drop a review and let me know what you thought. Who knows, you might get a reply.

Until next time, dear reader, when (don't I always say it?) the best is yet to come.


	9. Terrorize: Brave New World

_Disclaimer_

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

* * *

From here, the city looked like the night sky, gathered into towers and trains of stars. Motes of light acted out the life of the city. They moved. They shone. They lit and vanished. From here, the city looked like a living constellation. He reached out, his hands almost brushing the edge of the starry city. It gave him a heady feeling.

The salty air filled him with a deep sigh. He let his hands fall, and continued to watch the city, no longer entranced. Such a lively night in the city merely meant that he had yet to achieve that which he had set out to do two months ago.

"Hey, Baby Face." The sound of Jinx's voice turned his head back to the roof hatch. She stood half-emerged with her elbows resting on the gritty, pockmarked surface. A smirk lifted her thin lips. "All done with the 'dramatic night vigil' thing, or do you need another minute? I gotta talk to you."

"Tactless as ever," he said, and returned her smirk in kind.

Jinx flipped up and out of the hatch with a sprightly hand-stand, and rolled back to her feet to stand next to him. Her arm looped around his waist in a comfortable embrace. Her other hand traced the line running down the middle of his chest. The armor squeaked under her fingertip, its red and blue hues made black and blacker in the night.

"I like it," Jinx decided of his new armor. "It's got a real 'duality' thing going for it. But why get rid of your old costume? Red X was kinda badass."

He removed her hand from his chest with a firm grasp. "Red X is a powerful symbol. But it isn't mine. To cull true power from a symbol, you must be its master, not merely its vessel."

She rolled her eyes and shook her hand free of his. "Ugh. Again with the symbol talk. You've been harping on this for weeks. Most people can change their clothes without making grand speeches, you know."

He hid his own roll of the eyes as he bent down. A helmet sat by his feet, overlooking the roof's edge and the starry city beyond with its empty white eyes. He picked the helmet up and held it next to the city, examining both in juxtaposition. Like his armor, the helmet's colors were split down the middle of its smooth face. "It's attitudes like that one that'll keep you robbing banks well into your thirties, Pinkie. You and the others don't understand the true power of symbols," he told her.

Her eyes remained firmly rolled. She spun away from him, across the rooftop with her arms outstretched. The air swirled off her fingertips and lifted her long hair. "And is that why we moved in here? To steal another symbol?" she asked snidely.

"No," he said, and drew the helmet over his head. It locked into his armor with synchronized snaps. His voice, now reverberant, rang through the featureless faceplate. "We aren't stealing this symbol. We're re-forging it. This relic will embody everything it stood against when we're through."

"New clothes and a new house. Yep, that's going to have this teeny burg wetting itself in no time. Maybe if we put up some new wallpaper, they'll hand the city over to us," Jinx teased through her ceaseless spinning.

"You can't argue with the power of symbols, Jinx. Just look at what it's done for the city." He waved his gauntlet at the stars across the bay. "A month ago, it was a chaotic mess of panic and helplessness."

"Good times," she sighed.

His empty eyes narrowed. "And yet, after their return, the Teen Titans have managed to expunge that panic from the city's memory. They aren't even officially back, and yet look how their city has rallied behind them. Four insipid teenagers banded together have changed the entire city simply by 'being.'"

Jinx stopped spinning. Her eyes were slower to stop, and so she staggered. "Careful, there. It sounds like they've got one more admirer right here."

Smiling with his voice, he said, "You should know better. All I'm saying is, if the Titans can benefit so richly from a symbol, why can't we do the same?"

She collapsed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her smile pressed against the bottom of his mask with a playful peck. "I love it when you monologue," she swooned.

"Really?"

"No. But I know you do, and that's good enough," she said.

She shrieked with delight as he swept her into his arms. "Is that why you came up here? To make fun of me?"

Jinx clung to his neck. She teased his armor with her finger again, and said, "Not really. I came up to help Mik bitch by proxy. He's still downstairs in the guts of your 'symbol.' Last I saw, he was waist-deep in what's left of the plumbing, and he said to tell you that he's going to need ungodly amounts of time and material to fix this place. Oh, and that I should blast the 'x' right off your face for making him live here in the first place."

"Charming. But you can tell him that I don't care. And that I'm not Red X anymore."

"So who are you today, Baby Face?" she asked him patronizingly and playfully.

He swung around, allowing both of them that breathtaking view that had engrossed him before her arrival. A scowl burned in his faceless mask of two tones as it watched the city bustle from afar.

"Call me 'Ravager,'" he said.

From where he stood, atop the derelict Titans Tower, the city looked like the night sky, like a living constellation. He reached out to grasp it, and came closer than ever.

* * *

* * *

**Teen Titans**  
**Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

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* * *

**  
Terrorize**: _Brave New World_

"And you should see the size of the place," Beast Boy said. "Everybody's got a room like an aircraft hangar. I wanted a bunk bed, but I couldn't find one big enough for me, and Vic was too busy to build me one. He's been too busy for much of anything lately, actually. It's cool, though. I've been hanging out with Tek. And Raven. Mostly Tek."

The click of the lab's door made Beast Boy look up and see Doctor Brown enter with her ever-present clipboard. She balked when she saw Beast Boy, and half-backed out the door. "I'm sorry, Garfield. I didn't realize she had company. I'll come back."

Beast Boy stood from his chair at Starfire's bedside. "No, it's okay, Doc. We were just…I mean, 'I' was just talking to her. C'mon in."

Doctor Brown eyed the young shapeshifter skeptically. He was significantly less young than he had been when she'd first met him, especially so in the last few weeks. Though chronologically fifteen, Beast Boy could have easily passed for much older. Lean muscle filled out his new uniform, a white and purple body suit similar to its previous incarnation in design. His features, still elfin, had elongated from cherubic childishness into an otherworldly beauty that made even the levelheaded Brown look twice.

She closed the door behind her and approached Starfire's bed. The comatose Tamaranian lay prostrate beneath an enormous sun lamp, which bathed her sickly golden skin in what the scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs hoped would help her heal. Her hospital gown rose and fell with shallow breath enhanced by the oxygen tube crossing her nose. Sensor pads rested all over her body, feeding information to the bevy of machines at her bedside.

"I see you're visiting again this week," Brown said into her clipboard as she transcribed numbers from Starfire's readouts.

Beast Boy shrugged and sat. "It was Vic's turn, but like I was telling Kory, he's been crazy-busy getting everything set up for today's grand to-do. Besides, I like coming here," he said, and brushed Starfire's hand with his.

"Mmm, that's right. Today is your 'grand opening,' so to speak," Brown said. "I'm almost sorry I have to miss it. I have tickets to see Brother Blood speaking at the Convention Center downtown."

A shiver ran up Beast Boy's spine and out his mouth as a groan. "Bleargh. You actually follow that creep? I thought you were a scientist. Don't you believe that the universe was created by an exploding thimble, or something?"

Brown quirked her brow. "My personal beliefs have little to do with it. Brother Blood is supposed to be quite an eloquent speaker. Besides, I'm curious to see the 'creep' who almost single-handedly rebuilt Jump City. This is the first time he's appearing in public."

"Single-handedly. Feh. All he did was donate money. Truckloads of money, maybe," he admitted. "But anybody who hides behind a mask like that is bad news."

Her daily check finished, Brown straightened from the bedside readouts and tucked away her clipboard. "What an odd sentiment coming from a super hero," she noted.

"Ha, ha."

As she looked up, she caught sight of something new on the table opposite Starfire's bed. Amidst the cards and notes, next to the potted flowers basking in her therapy light, sat a small framed picture. Brown leaned down to examine the photo. It was a group picture of the five founding Titans taken outside the old Tower. Judging by their smiles and relative youth, she guessed it had been taken a long time ago.

She tapped the frame, and said, "This is new."

Beast Boy glanced back from Starfire. "Oh. That's way back from the day we all moved in. Vic found it in an old lockbox or something. It's the only picture we have left since the Tower kerploded, so we figured Kory should have it."

Brown's attention lingered on the photographed Starfire. When she looked up, she saw a very different Starfire being tended to by a vastly different Beast Boy. Her heart ached to see him clasp her clammy hand. "Maybe you should take a picture of your new home and bring it with you next time. I know Koriand'r would…will want to see it when she wakes up."

He grinned. "That's a great idea," he said.

"Is the new place nice? I haven't seen it, aside from all the construction traffic it caused," said Brown. "Hopefully it's worth all that time I spent parked on the freeway."

"Nice? Totally," Beast Boy said. He ruffled his hair in thought, and added, "Well, it will be. There's still some kinks to work out."

* * *

"_Good morning, and welcome to Titans Compound. My name is Sarah. How may I service you?_"

Cyborg grinned and scratched his head. He glanced at Raven, and asked, "Okay, so there's still some kinks to work out. But what do you think?"

Raven considered her words carefully. She let her gaze wander through the lobby, a cavernous room of windows and skylights that washed the white floors and walls into blinding cheeriness. Far behind her, two sets of glass double doors led to a busy sidewalk and street outside.

In front of Raven, a large mahogany desk embossed with the Titan "T" played host to the object of Cyborg's question. Sarah was a slim, perky blonde, dressed for success in a sharp blue blazer. She wore a smile that hurt Raven's face just to look at. The young lady waited eagerly behind the desk for either Raven or Cyborg to answer the question.

Slowly, and with a painfully straight face, Raven said, "I think it's interesting that, given the opportunity to design a person from the ground up, you make a petite blonde white girl whose sole passion is 'servicing' you."

Annoyance creased half of Cyborg's face. He waved his hand, signaling the Compound mainframe wirelessly. Sarah flickered and de-resolved into prickly air. Her winning smile seemed to linger a second longer than the rest of her. "Very funny," Cyborg groused. "But the SARAH Sim isn't some cheap fantasy. I designed her to be a fully interactive aide for when people come knocking on our door. Friendly people, anyway. She just has a few glitches I need to work out in her speech subroutines."

"Better double-check her 'technique' while you're at it," Raven suggested.

Cyborg grunted, and groused, "I didn't realize Beast Boy left you in charge of jokes while he was away."

Now Raven's was the annoyed expression. "I don't see why we need a receptionist. Or a lobby, for that matter. Couldn't we have used this space for another vehicle, or more giant cannons? You love giant cannons," she insisted.

He sighed, and leaned against the desk. The old wood squeaked in protest at the weight of his smooth, silvery new cybernetics. "Raven, how many times are we going to have this conversation? The last nail went in two days ago. This is where we live now," he said.

A glance out the double doors made Raven cringe and retreat deeper into her cloak. "I liked where we lived before. There was room to breathe. It was peaceful, and private—"

"—and remote," Cyborg said pointedly. "Raven, we've been gone for months now. The city may be up and running again, but people are still scared. They need to know that somebody's gonna be there the next time some lunatic with laser breath starts something. We need to be there. Moving into the city's a big step toward that."

"And this 'Grand Opening' nonsense this afternoon is another step?" she asked testily.

Alloy cringed and cheek flushed with embarrassment. "Yeah, well, a little PR to get the Titans rolling again can't hurt. It's just a little press conference."

Raven could hear volumes left unsaid in his voice. She arched her eyebrow, and prompted, "And…?"

Cyborg coughed. "And maybe there'll be a small street carnival. With performers. And vendors. And booths with Titan-themed games and prizes." He chilled beneath Raven's glare, and retorted, "Come on, Raven, it's a fun way for people to come on down and get to know us. You can meet everybody and let them know we're here to help. It's the least we can do after the city gave us this land for the new Compound."

"I can't," Raven growled. "I'm going to be too busy bankrupting myself at the 'Dunk the Cyborg' booth."

A long-suffering sigh emptied his iron lungs. "What's it going to take for you to show up, smile at the press conference, and glad-hand people for five minutes afterward?" he asked.

She didn't hesitate. "Bookstore. You drive me there now, and you pay for everything I want. I have a collection to rebuild, and the CUTTER should almost be able to haul it home."

Cyborg winced at the thought of replacing Raven's extensive library. They might need to sacrifice certain frivolous luxuries to afford the hit to their budget. Like eating. But if it meant an end to Raven's complaining, it was worth it. "I don't want to hear another word about the new neighborhood or the press conference," he said, and stuck out his hand.

"Deal." They shook.

An electronic chime heralded the door's opening. Cyborg looked back to the end of the long lobby, where a grizzled man in a long coat and a fedora pushed through the door. The man's footsteps clicked smartly against the tile as he marched toward the pair and swept off his hat. As he reached them, however, the air next to him buzzed and resolved into a Sarah with a ready smile.

"_Good morning, Lieutenant Smith. Would you like needing any servicing today?_" Sarah asked, and fuzzed.

Smith eyeballed the blonde hologram. "Sweet lord, son, what kind of house are you running here?" he asked Cyborg.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Cyborg said, and deactivated Sarah with a humiliated thought. "Is there a problem?"

Smith's face puckered. "Not yet. I just thought I would check in with you kids before you turned my street into Coney Island. Maybe suggest that you keep your noses clean."

"Are you expecting trouble? Do you want us to cancel the event?" Raven asked, veiling the hope in her voice.

He snorted and shook his head. With a wave, he drew them back toward the door. The Titan pair fell into step behind him. "Not hardly. As much of a headache as it is for me, this little shindig of yours might be just what the doctor ordered. Folks around here could use something to lift their spirits. If they have to live next to this circus of yours, you might as well give 'em a show, right?"

"Then what's the problem?" Cyborg asked, crossing his arms in irritation of Smith's tone. "The crews will be here in an hour to start setting up. If there's something wrong…"

They walked outside to stand before Titans Compound. The massive structure sat in the middle of Jump City's booming business district, rising four stories into the air. It lay on the ground in the shape of an enormous "T." The southern tip, where they stood now, was composed almost entirely of glass and frame to create the cheery lobby that Raven so disliked. The rest of it stood as white stone and tinted windows, still possessed of a pristine sheen yet untouched by the elements. Even the sidewalk they stood upon looked brand new.

Smith gestured across the busy street and killed Cyborg's good mood. "I just saw 'that' on my way in. Thought you should know," he said.

A wrought-iron bench across the street played host to the meditations of a young Asian boy in a keikogi. Through foot traffic and passing cars, the sight of the teenaged assassin made Cyborg's teeth grind, and put an ache in his ocular implant.

"Bushido," Cyborg growled. He pushed imaginary sleeves up his arms and marched toward the curb.

Smith stopped Cyborg with an arm. Though more than a head taller and considerably broader than Smith, Cyborg stopped at the gruff sound of the old man's voice. "Easy, kid. I just wanted to point him out. If he's not starting trouble, then you're not starting trouble. And that's not a suggestion," he said sharply.

Cyborg fumed and sputtered, but he remained at the curb. If looks could kill, he would have obliterated Bushido and the whole bench with his remaining eye. "I can't believe a piece of crap like him is just walking around and doing whatever he wants. Why isn't he in prison?" he spat.

They all knew the answer, but Smith said it anyway. "The little punk has friends in high places. Very high places. Places that you can't even see from my pay grade. Not that we could have held him for anything besides questioning. There's no evidence linking him to any of the crimes you say he's committed."

Pointing at his face, Cyborg said, "He stabbed me in the freaking eye! I'd have video proof if our house hadn't blown up!"

"Then it's your word against his. His and the Japanese Embassy's," Smith said. He slapped Cyborg on the arm in an understanding gesture. "I've been there, kid. You know for a fact that the piece of scum's guilty, but you just can't muster the evidence. Suck it up and make sure you file a report right away next time he puts a knife through your face instead of waiting eight months."

As the old cop tipped and donned his hat to leave, Cyborg shouted after him, "Can't you cite him for loitering? Or disturbing the peace?"

Raven rubbed her ringing ear. "What peace?" she muttered.

Furious, Cyborg glared across the street again. His collective fury—or his carrying voice—awoke Bushido from his meditations. The assassin opened his eyes, and waved and smiled at Cyborg.

Cyborg's fists strained. "Did you know that little bastard came here to the construction site at least once a week? He actually asked if we needed help! Talking about how 'we Titans' have to stick together."

"No, you've only told me about it twenty times," Raven said, rolling her eyes. "Look, he's a contract killer. Without a paycheck, he has no reason to kill us." At Cyborg's scathing glare, she added, "I'm just saying. I don't want him here any more than you do, but you heard the Lieutenant. As long as he isn't making trouble…"

Harrumphing, Cyborg set his crosshairs back on Bushido. "Yeah, well, contract or no contract, I'm evicting his ass from that bench. I don't want him here when the press and crews start setting things up."

It was Raven's arm that stopped him this time. "No, you're not. You're taking me to the bookstore so Bushido doesn't have you arrested for aggravated assault. Or worse, take you apart with that magic sword of his."

Cyborg grumbled and puffed, but he backed down. Lifting his arm, he said, "Fine. But the hell if I'm leaving him there without a babysitter. Cyborg to Ops."

The smooth alloy of his arm flashed with a projected video display. Tek's face appeared on-screen, framed by the readout displays of their new command center. "_Thank you for calling Ops. How may I help you make this a Titan-riffic day?_"

"What the hell was that?"

Her sober face split with a grin. "_Beast Boy paid me five bucks to say that the next time you called in case he wasn't on monitor duty. What's up, Cy?_"

"Raven and I are taking off. I need you to handle things here."

Tek's grin died a quick and anguished death. "_Alone? B-But all those reporters and performers and booths are coming. What am I supposed to say when they show up? I can't do the press conference by myself!_"

"Tek. Tek! Breathe, okay? We're gonna be back with plenty of time to spare for the shindig. We're just taking the CUTTER out for an errand. I wanted to give you the heads-up that Bushido's back. The bastard's camped out across the street again."

_"…what should I do?_"

Scowling at Bushido from behind his arm, Cyborg said, "Stick to the monitors, keep an eye on him, and nuke him with the Compound's security measures if he so much as sneezes at you."

Raven grabbed his arm and pulled, ending his conversation with Tek. She tugged him back through the lobby doors, saying, "Come on. Tek can handle Bushido. You can glare at him all you want at the press conference. It looks like he's going to have a front-row seat."

Through the closing doors and across the street, Bushido smiled serenely at Cyborg. Whatever his plan, Cyborg vowed he would not let Bushido bring harm their way a second time.

* * *

Cyborg had spent weeks in collaboration with the finest minds of S.T.A.R. Labs in designing his new body. The sleek new alloy, devoid of its predecessor's circuitry pattern, housed systems that far surpassed anything yet conceived in the field of cybernetics. He had taken the hard lessons of the past and made them into backup batteries, backup processors, thicker armor, bigger muscles, and a host of new defensive countermeasures. He was five hundred pounds of bigger, tougher, stronger cyborg now.

"Collected Works of Byron. Mm. Fake leather binding, but I suppose it'll do."

As Raven added yet another tome to the growing pile in Cyborg's arms, he couldn't help but feel annoyed that his design work was now being put to use as a shopping valet. He followed Raven through the shelves of _A Nook for a Book_, having to crane his neck to one side just to see around the stack of books she wanted him to buy.

He grunted and rebalanced the wobbling stack in his hands. "You know, you could at least help carry these. You could carry all of these with your mind, even," he grunted.

"I know." Raven pulled the thickest book from the shelf and placed it atop his teetering stack. She never even glanced at its title.

Biting back a grumble, Cyborg looked around his stack at the rest of the store. He felt a small measure of comfort in all of the faces he saw. It lifted his spirits to see many of those faces smiling back at him. The city had healed to an amazing degree, to where people could leave their homes and go back to their lives. Now if he could only keep it that way.

Another book hit his stack. Cyborg had to fight to keep everything balanced. "Are you building a library or a book fort?" he snapped, and seriously contemplated letting the stack topple onto Raven the next time she tossed a book on top.

"There's no sense in complaining. Besides, we're almost through with 'B,'" she tossed over her shoulder.

While Raven hunted for another volume, a pair of younger teenagers worked up the courage to approach her and Cyborg. The scruffy-haired boy toed the ground and turned beet red while his dark-haired girl friend stammered a greeting to the Titans. Both kids appeared to be on the cusp of high-schoolerdom.

"Excuse us," the girl said, her voice thick with nerves. "I know you must get this all the time, but…could we get a picture?" She held out her cell phone.

"With you," the boy said. "Both of you," he added lamely, staring at Raven, whose face puckered at the attention.

Cyborg grinned and set his stack of books down on a nearby chair, which sagged and creaked. "We'll do you one better," he said cheerfully, and corralled Raven with an arm before she could fade into the shadows. The ire sparking in her eyes was suitable comeuppance for the snippy mood she'd put him through all throughout the Compound's construction.

Taking the cell phone from the girl, he turned and tapped a nearby patron, a tall man wearing a hooded sweatshirt. "Would you mind? Thanks."

After handing Hoodie the phone, Cyborg scooped the girl up and placed her on his shoulder. She tittered with delight and held onto his hand at her waist. "Go ahead, don't be shy. She won't bite," he told the boy, who edged next to Raven with a worsening blush. A sly elbow from Cyborg made Raven perch her hand on the boy's shoulder and paste something akin to a smile on her face.

The telltale click of the phone after endless seconds of waiting was all the excuse Raven needed to eject herself from the scene. Cyborg, in the meantime, took the phone back. Ignoring the girl's puzzled look, he sent the picture as a message with a few deft strokes of his thumb. Then he handed the phone back to her.

A small slot opened at Cyborg's waist. It buzzed for a second, and then spat out a glossy eight-by-ten of the picture. Amidst the delighted gasps of the pair, and in spite of Raven's rolling eyes, Cyborg pulled the picture out of his waist. He clicked his index finger into a pen, and asked, "So who do we make this out to?"

"Wendy," the girl giggled.

"M-Marvin," stammered the boy.

"To Wendy and Marvin," Cyborg drawled as he signed. "From your super friends. Cyborg." He disengaged his finger-pen from his hand with a twist, and handed it with the picture to the begrudged Raven. She scrawled her name over her painful photographed smile, and then shoved the picture at Marvin and the disgusting pen at Cyborg.

As the giggling pair skipped away with their picture, Cyborg reattached his finger and used it to point at Raven. "See? Was that so bad?"

Their hooded photographer interrupted her retort, pulling back his hood and saying, "Actually, if you're doing autographs, I wouldn't mind one. I'm a big fan."

Raven rounded on Hoodie, drawing in a breath with which to channel her Cyborg-related frustrations into this poor, hapless bystander whose only crime was a poor sense of timing. "Listen, you…"

She trailed off. As the young man's head pulled free of its hood, he revealed a crop of unkempt hair colored blazing red. His pale face split in a smile that made his eyes twinkle. "Remember me? I'm Nobody," he said playfully.

Memory crashed through Raven like a tidal wave. She remembered the odd encounter in this same bookstore, months ago, before Slade's Attack. She remembered the tall, lanky, pale boy with the amicable smile and eyes the color of old jade. But most of all, she remembered the overwhelming sense of peace that his touch brought her, a peace she could feel at the extreme edge of her empathy even now.

That memory lifted her hands and made a specter of her voice. "Dominic," she murmured breathlessly.

His grin widened. "Hi," he said. "Wow. I didn't really think that you'd remember."

Raven still thought of him every time she meditated, wishing she could feel that sense of peace she felt at his touch. She'd written no fewer than eight pages about him in her journal. She had searched his name and number through every database to which the Titans had access.

"Yeah, well…I'm good with names," Raven muttered. Embarrassment weighed her gaze down onto her boots. "It's not like I thought of you, or anything," she added lamely.

Dominic's smile faltered. "Oh. Well, sure. That's cool. It's, uh, it's not like I've been coming here hoping that I'd run into you again. Th-That would be lame."

Cyborg stared at the pale pair in dawning realization. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he wouldn't have ever believed it. He still didn't, not entirely. Picking up Raven's tower of books, he said, "Hi, I'm Cyborg, and I was just leaving to, um, pay for these. Raven, I'll meet you by the CUTTER. When you're ready. No hurry. Nice to meet you." He tripped and staggered around the corner, out of sight and, more importantly, out of the way.

Neither Raven nor Dominic said anything. Their eyes were otherwise engaged in looking at one another without appearing to look at one another. Raven felt glad for her hood, which hid her dark blush in shadow. She also wished she was wearing something nicer than her uniform, and that she had gotten the haircut she knew she desperately needed. Suddenly she couldn't remember if she'd brushed her teeth that morning. She felt an intense need for lip gloss, breath spray, and deodorant that could keep up with the panic currently trying to sweat through her cloak.

"So," she said.

"Yeah," he said.

Silence ate them both. Raven screamed inward, demanding something of her mind. Its only reply was to babble at her with eight different voices, none of which had anything helpful to say.

Finally, Dominic broke the stupor. "So, I hear you guys have moved. Into the city. The Titans, I mean. You've got that new…"

"Oh. Oh! Right," Raven said, grateful to have something to say at all. "The new Compound. Yes, we're…"

"Yeah. So, um, that's good. It looks…big."

She could feel his calm edging against her serenity, like a cool oasis in the heated sandstorm of emotion all around them. Her hand flexed and clenched, aching to reach out and touch his.

"Yes. Big," she said.

Dominic's smile slowly dissolved in the awkward silence. He scratched his head, and said, "I'm sorry. I must be keeping you. I saw your, uh, tank parked on the street outside. You must have places you need to be. Super hero, right? I, uh, I hope I see you around again—"

"Press conference!" Raven blurted. Both she and Dominic paused at her outburst, equally surprised. "We're having a press conference later today. It's about how we're back and…that we're back. There's going to be a big event afterward, with booths and food. It's going to be…fun. You should come. I-If you want, I mean."

His face brightened. "Yeah!" Then it fell just as quickly. "I mean, no. I can't. I have to go to that thing at the Convention Center. The Brother Blood thing. My mother is making me go. I can't get out of it. Otherwise…"

"Oh." Now Raven's expression fell. "No, I understand."

"But…but afterward, I'm free. If that event thing is still going on," he said, hopeful, "maybe I could stop by. Maybe you'd still be there?"

Her heart soared. "Yes! I mean, maybe," Raven said.

"Great! I mean, great. Oh, here," he said, and pulled a pen from his pocket. "I should give you my number this time, just in case something changes, o-or if you want to get together somewhere else. Do you have a piece of paper, or…?"

She held out her trembling hand.

The bones drained from Raven's legs as Dominic gently took her hand and tickled ten numbers onto her palm with his pen. As soon as he touched her, everything in the bookstore stopped. Silence rushed into her through his skin, erasing the empathic white noise of the city, and the looming hatred of her father. Her own doubts and fears were washed away in a tranquil tide. Raven closed her eyes and held her breath, feeling for the second time the peace she had always sought.

If she could, Raven would have held Dominic's hand forever. She braced herself when she felt him finish his writing. When he pulled away, her empathy rang again with the thoughts and feelings of everyone and everything around her. Except his.

She opened her eyes to his smile. "So…I hope I catch you later," he said, taking a step back with his hands in his hoodie pocket. "It's the big 'T' downtown, right?"

A likewise smile infected her face. "You can't miss it," she told him.

He back out of sight around a bookshelf, his smile almost blinding. Raven watched the corner of the bookshelf for a long minute after he vanished. She hardly noticed the other patrons in the store as they edged around her through the aisle. It wasn't until someone bumped into her that she returned to the physical world.

Raven blinked hard and shook her head clear. The whole encounter felt surreal, just as it had last time. She almost wondered if it had actually happened. Her heart pounded in her chest while she stared into her palm and read his phone number again and again. Her extremities tingled with excitement.

She wondered if this was how real people felt.

* * *

Tek hesitated at the door. Truth be told, it had been "hesitation" ten minutes ago when she'd first wandered from Ops down to the lobby. Now she was just being wishy-washy. Cowardly, even. And honestly, what did she have to fear? She had travelled with him for almost a month, and hadn't once felt afraid of him.

She stared at Bushido through her own reflection. He had resumed his meditation on the corner bench. Compared to his serenity, her reflection appeared wracked, biting its lip and staring back at her with quivering eyes.

Cyborg would be furious. He would forbid it, no matter how badly she needed to know.

So she would have to make extra certain that Cyborg never found out.

Tek pushed past her reflection out onto the sidewalk and almost brained herself on a large section of the stage being constructed on their doorstop. Two teamsters carrying the flat, black paneling grunted at her as she sidestepped them only to wind up walking onto the half-finished stage, where more teamsters worked with ratchets to put the modular stage together. She hopped off the end, apologizing profusely to the teamster over whom she jumped, and stepped to the curb.

Up and down the street, foot traffic streamed between the small, colorful tents being erected on the sidewalk. Plywood booths, roving snack stands, and a host of other temporary amusements were taking shape on their block, all beneath an enormous banner stretched across the street that read "TEEN TITANS GO!" Trucks with supplies and news vans were the only cars allowed onto the road, but they were plentiful enough to make Tek wait to cross the street.

After quick-stepping around a van determined to smear her on the road, she made it to the opposite sidewalk. She took a minute to slow down her racing heart, and then realized it was a lost cause, and approached the bench anyway. "Hello, Ryuko," she said softly.

Bushido's chin rose smoothly off his chest. His eyes turned and found hers at once. He smiled. "Hello, Tek," he said. His legs uncrossed and pushed him to one side of the bench.

Tek sat at the opposite edge of the bench. She perched as far from him as she could, with her legs tensed and her hands curled at her knees. Bushido's eyes burned into her. She let her own gaze fall to the sidewalk. Second thoughts churned in her stomach.

He mimicked her posture. "It's good to see you again, Tek. But shouldn't you be inside keeping watch? Everyone else is gone, after all."

"I've got the Alert System tied to my communicator," she answered. Then she cringed, and snapped, "I mean, that's none of your business!"

He smirked. "I see. So then what is my business, Tek?"

She swallowed. "Why don't you tell me?" she asked shakily. Then, with growing strength, she said, "Why did you lie to me? Why did you trick me like that, and go along with me?"

Bushido's smirk became nostalgic. "The real question you want to ask is, 'why did I help you?'" She fueled his smile with her silence. "When I met you in the Tower, I had already resolved myself to join the Teen Titans. My destiny lies here with them. So, from my perspective, I was already a member. I still am, official rulings notwithstanding. Any further perceived falsehoods on your behalf are just that: perceived."

Tek took his explanation and distilled it into its purest form with two words: "Bull crap."

"As you say," he said lightly.

"I just…I don't get it, Ry," she said, exasperated. "Cyborg told me all about those terrible things you did. You're a murderer!"

With a raised finger, he said, "'Alleged' murderer."

"You kill people! For money!" Tek shouted. Her voice drew startled stares from the work crews and news crews setting up all around them. Bushido mollified the communal curiosity with a smile and a friendly wave while Tek continued, softer, "Do you…I mean, are you trying to make up for all that? Is that what all of this is about?"

Bushido pondered the question for a second. "My official position, on the recommendation of my exorbitant legal council, is one of total innocence. But if you're asking, hypothetically, if I were guilty of these murders you speak of, would I feel remorse?" At her nod, he said, "Then, no."

She frowned, and felt her stomach flip. "No," she echoed in disbelief. "You don't feel bad about the people you killed at all. You don't feel bad about attacking the Titans, and holding a sword to Raven's throat. Not even a little?"

"Not in the slightest. Assassination was a trade I chose. I possess an aptitude for the work, and for the most part, I enjoy it. Or would, in your hypothetical scenario, such as it is. But now I am moving on to a new chapter in my life. Now I shall be a Titan."

Her flipped stomach flopped. To think that she had slept next to him, trained with him, laughed and ate with him… Her voice planed into a monotone. "Cyborg will never let you on the team," she told him.

His unflappable smile prickled her skin. "Never, in my experience, is a much shorter interval of time than you might think," he told her. When she had nothing to say to this, he asked, "So, how have you been? I have not spoken to you in some time. Are you well?"

The question caught Tek off-guard. "Fine," she said reflexively. Then, "I think. I feel better than I did. I'm seeing a therapist now. Three, actually." She blushed.

"Are you still…?" He mimed tossing something into his mouth, and tossed his head back as if swallowing.

Her blush worsened. She felt a small vial pressing against her hip inside her belt. "I'm…That's none of your business," she said.

Bushido nodded deeply. "Well, you appear much better than last I saw you. I'm glad."

Tek's cheeks burst into full flame. "Thanks," she said, brushing back her close-cropped hair. Then she straightened sharply and cleared her throat. "I mean, whatever. It's not like I care what a—"

Her communicator interrupted her posturing with shrill, incessant beeps. Tek tore the device off her belt and flipped its screen to reveal a flashing Titan insignia. She leapt to her feet and gasped, "Oh, boy… I have to…I mean, I…"

She looked down at Bushido with a mixture of confusion and apprehension written in her features. Bushido just smiled, and nodded again. "Please, don't let me keep you. And feel free if you need help. I'll be right here."

She gave him one last odd look. Then she bolted across the street, weaving between honking cars and irritated work crews, and bounding across the half-finished stage. She slammed through the Compound's lobby doors and past the visitor desk. A flickering Sarah tried to service her along the way, but she ignored it and rushed down a brief corridor behind the desk to the heavy security door.

"Computer: clearance code zero-zero-seven," she huffed at the heavy steel door in mid-sprint. "Recognize and open!"

The security door buzzed as it swung back just before she would have careened into it. She rushed through, banging her shoulder on the slow door, and bounced into the Compound's Sector Prime.

Sector Prime itself was empty for now. Railings and walkways bordered its upper levels, with doors leading to more rooms. The stem of the Compound's "T," with the exception of their visitor lobby, was a tremendous hall that stretched four stories high and a city block long. Skylights high above turned the tile floor into a glimmering sea of light upon which Tek ran, passing doorways to the Compound's more functional compartments. The mainframe, sickbay, crime lab, evidence room, all stemmed off of Sector Prime.

Unfortunately for Tek, none of those doors led to Ops. Their current Ops setup was all the way at the other end of Sector Prime, three levels overhead. She huffed and puffed and flashed blue with the blossoming of her armor. As soon as it wrapped around her, the armor's stride carried her through the immense hall in six steps. She planted her feet at the end—carefully so as to not break the tile and thus earn Cyborg's wrath—and jumped to Ops.

Ops had been built as a balcony overlooking Sector Prime. It possessed none of the homey features of its predecessor, no kitchen or couches. This Ops was purely for work. A workstation had been built for each Titan at the railing, affording them their own monitors as well as a bird's-eye view of the floor below. A display screen table loomed in the center of the balcony, currently projecting a map of the city into the air. And against the wall at the back of the balcony, a central monitor stretched across a large command station, where Tek was supposed to be on duty.

As Tek cleared the railing, her armor shrank back into its dimensional pocket, leaving her skin suit boots to touch down. She jumped again, over the back of the chair and into the command station, landing with an "oof" and fingers poised over the keyboard.

A flurry of keystrokes ended the monitor's blinking. She called up the alert and plugged it into the map behind her. When she turned to see, she groaned "oh, boy," again, turning two syllables into five.

"Cyborg isn't going to like this at all," she said.

**To Be Continued**


	10. Terrorize: Familiar Ground

* * *

**Teen Titans**  
**Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**  
Terrorize**: _Familiar Ground_

Thick silence choked the cab of the rebuilt CUTTER. Through the front seats of the tank were mounted two feet apart, the distance felt far greater to Cyborg. No amount of glancing over at Raven seemed to penetrate her unreadable air. She just stared out the windshield with her hands carefully folded in her lap.

His curiosity at last bested his common sense. Sounding as casual as he could, he asked, "So, who was that guy in the bookstore? Dominic, right?"

Raven didn't twitch. "Just a guy," she said.

A moment passed, and then Cyborg ventured, "He seems nice."

"I guess."

"Are, uh… Are you going to see him again?" Cyborg felt like he was talking through a verbal minefield.

"Maybe."

He tried to hold it in. He did everything he could, biting his lip, suppressing his language subroutines, and even shunting power away from his vocoder. But in the end, he lost the battle to himself. With no choice left, he said in a low, tight voice, "Do you think it'll be a large wedding?" A snicker choked his words halfway through.

Raven launched a scowl over her shoulder. "So mature," she sniffed.

"I just want to know so I can get a tux in my size," he said, giggling. Raven regressed into her hood. "Oh, come on, Raven. I've known you for years, and all you ever do is give everybody crap about everything they do. This is the closest I've ever seen you act like a person outside of your own head," he said.

She stared at him for a long moment, killing his smile with uncomfortable silence. Her eyes glimmered with a hint of hurt before she turned to the window. A sharp gesture pulled the edge of her hood between her and Cyborg.

Cyborg sobered. "Okay, my bad. But you know what I mean."

"Obviously, I don't," she said frostily to her window.

He grimaced and kicked himself. "What I meant was that it's cool to see someone getting through that Ice Queen bunker of yours. I've never seen anybody make you look the way he did. It's just nice that you found someone you like, is all."

The rod up Raven's spine softened. She let her shoulders relax. Pretending to watch the city roll by, she examined her own reflection. Her hard-edged expression stared back at her without any of the niceness for which Cyborg mocked her. "I barely know him. What makes you think I like him?" she asked in an idle tone.

Cyborg's smile trickled back. He tapped the side of his head. "Telescopic vision. It's not just for ball games and bird watching anymore. And it doesn't lie."

Raven pulled her gaze from her reflection and turned it inward. She knew how Dominic made her feel, and that she wanted to feel it again. But she had never considered it a romantic attraction. The whole concept of romance felt alien to her. Raven didn't think of Dominic like that. She didn't think like that, period. She couldn't.

So why was it, as she thought on the possibility, that she felt a strange tingle in the pit of her stomach, like it was trying to lift her body from the inside. Is that what this was? A crush?

"He's just a guy," she said again.

The dashboard trilled nine notes at them, answering Raven's prayer for a change in topic. She mashed her thumb against the comm panel before Cyborg could say anything more. Tek's troubled face filled the screen between them on the dash.

"_Calling all Titans!_" she said breathlessly. "_We have a level two Teen TroubAlert._"

"You have got to stop calling it that," Cyborg muttered, while Raven pulled down the dashboard computer terminal. He said crisply, "We're here, Tek. What's the emergency?"

Her image on the screen shrank and squashed to make room for Beast Boy's face, which slid into the other half of the screen. "_Yeah, what's the deal? We're too busy for emergencies today. I was just on my way back to gel up my hair for the big to-do. That's a complicated process, you know. Takes hours._"

"_Tell that to the grid. I've got three different emergencies showing,_" Tek said. "_A robbery at an electronics store in Uptown, some major weirdness happening by the docks, and an emergency call from the Convention Center._"

Cyborg scowled. "That's a handful," he said in a loaded tone. "We'll have to split up. Raven and I are already mobile in the CUTTER. We'll make an appearance at the Convention Center. It's gotta be packed by now, so doubling up makes sense."

"_Roger that, Motor Head. I'll fly and check out the seaside. It's on my way home anyway,_" said Beast Boy.

"_I guess that leaves me with the robbery. Alone,_" Tek said nervously.

Cyborg pressed down on the gas pedal. A wireless command made the CUTTER's siren cut a path through traffic with its howl. Outside on the roof, lights arose from beneath retracting panels to paint the buildings they streaked past in red and white.

"Let's make this quick, y'all. We have an adoring public waiting for us. CUTTER, out."

The plasma-driven engine hummed with speed. Cars ahead of them swerved to the curb to allow the besirened CUTTER roaring passage. Their treads rumbled against the pavement. But with all the noise outside, the cab's interior remained still. Cyborg and Raven sat in echoing silence.

Finally, she said, "You know this is no coincidence, right?"

"Yeah, I figured that out all by myself," he said. "Three emergencies on opposite ends of town all at once? Somebody wants us busy and out of the way. Question is, why? Which one of these is the real emergency, and which ones are distractions?"

"So what do we do about it?"

"Keep our eyes and ears open while we take out these small fish, and smack the big fish down as soon as he splashes up." Glancing sidelong, Cyborg smiled, and added, "Then we can go back to picking out a china pattern for your reception dinner. Does Dominic like floral prints?"

Raven's eyebrow twitched. "Just watch the road, comedian."

"You can name the first kid after me if you want."

"You don't think naming a child 'Moron' is too cruel?"

* * *

A stiff ocean breeze carried Beast Boy high over the shoreline. His wings cut the salty air while his sharp eyes combed the docks for trouble. It didn't take eagle eyes to see why he had been called in, but they did let him see the trouble with perfect clarity.

Jump City possessed a thriving seafaring economy, the crown jewel of which being the extensive system of docks lining its shore. Carefully engineered, this system had turned the young city into a major shipping port in the last two decades. Tall ships bobbed next to the city, stuffed to the brim with cargo that could be heading anywhere in the continent after a brief stay in any of the hundreds of warehouses built adjacent to the shore.

At one particularly lively dock, however, the direction of cargo had been reversed. Hulking creatures dressed like men lumbered in long lines out of a warehouse and onto a commandeered cargo vessel. Enormous crates perched on their shoulders. They moved with preternatural organization, queuing onto and off the vessel under the direction of its colorful captain.

"Keep it up, ye scurvy dogs!" the captain bellowed. He was a portly boy cursed with perpetual acne and a stout shape that his ruffled shirt and tasseled jacket could not flatter. A plumed tri-corner hat capped his long, greasy red hair. "Faster, blast ye! I aim to set sail with the tide, and I'll not leave without me booty!"

An avian shriek drew his piggish eyes high. Then he screamed and ducked as a green eagle swooped low over the deck and knocked the hat from his head with its dagger talons. The eagle screeched again as it spread its wings to stop before him. Then its outline blurred outward into an elfin teen wearing purple and white.

"Avast, dude!" Beast Boy crowed. Then he frowned, examining the captain. "Wait. Don't I know you? Remote Control Carl, right?"

"Arrgh, filthy Titan!" he screamed, yanking the hat back onto his head. "It is I, your arch-nemesis, Control Freak! Scourge of the high seas, and captain of this fearsome ship!"

Beast Boy glanced around the rusty deck. "You mean this cargo scow, or do you have another ship? And since when are you a pirate?"

"Silence! Arrgh!" screamed Control Freak. He drew his monstrous remote control from his jacket with a flourish. "I aim to rule the seas and live by the code of the pirate, not unlike the characters of a certain super-cool and highly successful summer blockbuster movie franchise! Call me Freakbeard the Pirate!"

"Dude. Pirates are lame."

Nerd rage blazed in Control Freak's scowl. "You're lame!" he screeched. "Get 'im, me hearties!"

Beast Boy spun around. From the air, Control Freak's crew had appeared to be a string of large, interchangeably anachronistic goons dressed in salty rags, wearing bandanas and hats that were wildly out of date. Now that he stood eye-to-eye with them, Beast Boy could see he had been mistaken.

At some point in the distant past, each crewman had probably appeared identical as a broad, thick android. But rust and holes marred each droid's gunmetal alloy in a different pattern. Some possessed gaping sockets where their yellow optics had been. Others had wires jutting from cracks in their exo-plating. Still others possessed sharpened stubs in lieu of limbs. All of them dropped their cargo in unison to advance on Beast Boy.

A delighted gasp pulled Beast Boy's lips into a grin. "Oh, man! It's the dreaded robot zombie pirates of Nimbus Four, from—"

"—from the Irrepressible Captain Taylor, episode two-fourteen!" cackled Control Freak. "Now, my undeactivated horde, capture this stowaway and make him walk the plank! Arrgh!"

Delight gave way to horror on Beast Boy's face as he fell into the shadow of the robot zombie pirate army. Dozens of clanking hands reached for him, above him, leaving only one direction to go. He shrank into a rat and scampered through the mechanical mob, dodging past heavy metal boots that stomped to squash him into the deck.

Beast Boy scurried through the sea of feet, off the ship, down the gangplank, between the abandoned crates of the horde. A mousey leap put him onto the dock, where more robots waited to squash him. Each near miss of their boots tossed him up until his tiny claws could grab the pockmarked wood again. Finally, he burst through the edge of the mob in a triumphant squeak. Then he grew.

"Arrgh, ye filthy dogs!" Control Freak bellowed. He watched his summoned army of television henchmen being tossed and torn asunder by a tremendous green gorilla. In a rage, Control Freak jammed his thumb on the **stop** button of his remote. A red cutlass blade sprang from the remote's mouth. It hummed as he waved it overhead. "You call yourselves pirates? Get him!"

The robots lurched at Beast Boy in waves. He picked up one and smashed it against another five, reducing all of them into sparking parts. Then he shrank from a gorilla into a kangaroo that ducked under the next robot's dagger. He kicked the robot back into two more, smashing all three, but the force of his kick launched him into another pair of robots behind him. They grabbed his stubby arms and pulled, hoping to split him down the middle. He slipped from their grasp by shucking his arms for the guise of a snake.

Beast Boy slung himself around the pair and constricted them until their clenched innards ruptured from their tattered pirate garb. When he fell to the deck, panting in his reassumed humanoid form, he looked up to see a sea of robots advancing on him still. The old dock creaked at their march.

"Okay, I like smashing robots as much as the next dashing hero," he gulped, "but this could get old really quick. I'd better think of some clever plan for taking them all out before—"

Red rays scorched the air around him. Beast Boy broke his ruminations with a yelp and looked up to see that the advancing robot horde had drawn cartoonish ray guns from inside their tattered clothes. Several robots in the back were clumsily shooting their own fellows, but the majority of them filled the space around Beast Boy with laser death. He ducked behind an overturned dinghy, which the lasers chewed.

"Right. Better stick with smashing," he muttered.

As the dinghy disintegrated, a green sparrow soared from behind his crumbling remains. Laser fire tracked his high arc until he neared the dock again. Inches from the old planks, the sparrow ballooned into a rhinoceros, whose hide weathered the robots' fire with only a few welts to show for it. The green rhino thundered at the robot horde, lowering his horn.

With a sharp crack, the dock's planks snapped beneath the rhino's front feet. He teetered and fell through the old wood. A quick morph gave him human hands to catch the edge of the hole. The treacherous planks splashed into the surf below, kicking water onto Beast Boy's boots.

Dangling under the dock, Beast Boy stared down at the old wood bobbing in the surf. The horde's footsteps shivered through the dock in his grip. He thought of the shabby bots' plating, their exposed wires and gaping sockets and maws crackling with electricity.

"Ding! Clever plan, ahoy!" he cried merrily.

The horde had surrounded his hole with lasers at the ready. Beast Boy zipped through their midst as a humming bird, making them fire on each other. He darted through laser fire and flaming shrapnel, climbing until their dilapidated optics could no longer perceive him. Then he flipped and reverted.

"Belly flop!" he yelled.

A shadow swallowed the entire robot zombie pirate horde. They stared up at the growing blot that had stolen the sky above them. To the end, they never truly processed the green orca that smashed into them, crunching a hole in the dock and crushing half the horde at once.

From the gaping hole erupted a wave of water that radiated ten feet high. It fell upon the rest of the horde, steeping their open wounds in salt water. Electricity arced from within and between them, frying their fragile systems. They convulsed, deactivated, and smoldered on the wet dock, optics dimmed, maws darkened.

Beast Boy climbed out of the hole. He hung with his arms and chest on the dock, breathing hard through a smile. Trendy hair lay plastered in his face until he flipped it back with a spray. "Judges?" he asked no one. After a brief pause, he mimicked a cheering crowd, and crowed, "A perfect ten, ladies and gents! Beast Boy takes home the gold!" He threw up his arms in victory, which made him fall back into the hole with a splash.

A loading crane on the cargo ship squeaked against Control Freak's weight. He swung on its line from the deck to the dock while Beast Boy hauled himself from the water a second time. Coat flapping, hair streaming, Control Freak dropped to the dock and stumbled before Beast Boy. The villain's cutlass scraped a scorch mark into the wood. "Avast, ye land lover! Arrgh!"

Beast Boy stood and emptied a mouthful of ocean. "Dude, it's 'lubber.' Get a clue. And a new tailor."

"Silence! Ye'll be dealing with me now!" screeched Control Freak.

Control Freak's clumsy stance and paunchy pose made Beast Boy shrug. "'Kay," he said. As he bent, his body elongated into that of a velociraptor, whose terrible claws raked curls of wood from the dock, and whose snorting snout brandished teeth longer than Control Freak's fingers.

The blade fizzled off Control Freak's remote. He shrank from the raptor, quickly reweighing his options. "On second thought, a good captain always delegates. That's why ye'll be dealing with this instead."

His remote spat a red beam over the raptor's swishing tail. Beast Boy glanced back at the red beam spacking against the ocean. The pathetic display jarred him back into his humanoid form. "Dude, what was that? That was just weak. I'm, like, four feet in front of you."

"Aye, that ye be, matey," Control Freak said with a sneer. "But I wasn't aiming at ye. I was aiming for he. I mean him. Just look!"

Control Freak's fervent pointing guided Beast Boy's attention back to the ocean. The calm waters bubbled where the beam had struck. With a swell of white foam, the water broke for a tall, metal shape that kept growing and rising, pushing the ocean aside in a low wave.

Beast Boy staggered back as a metal monster erupted from the ocean. Its head towered over the dock, casting a long shadow over Beast Boy. The water broke again, and again, and again, as long tentacles slithered up from the depths to menace the dock.

"Behold the Atomic Kraken!" cried Control Freak. "I don't have time to keelhaul you, so this'll have to do! Get 'im, Keira!"

The villain's laughter fell on deaf ears. Beast Boy leapt into the air, already choosing from a catalogue of creatures in his head, when one of the Kraken's tentacles snaked around him with speed unimaginable for a creature its size. The segmented metal was as thick around as Beast Boy's whole body, and it coiled over all of him in mid-morph.

A wet crunch filled his ears from the inside. Pain wrenched every part of him, grinding his bones together. As his innards spilled together into useless slurry, the tentacle dragged him into the water, drowning his last scream. Cold rushed through him, deadening his pain into emptiness.

Control Freak's final laugh haunted his blackening consciousness. He tried to think small in his final moments—a shrimp, a plankton, a sponge—but his mind and body couldn't reach one another across the numb space filling him. In desperation, he grasped that shrill laughter and plunged it into himself. The laughter festered in his darkest thoughts, which the tentacle wrung with bone-crushing force, until it blossomed into hate.

Beast Boy let that mortal outrage fill every corner of himself. He refused to die. He refused to be beaten by a popular b-list animated villain, or by the greasy nerd controlling it.

The rage filled Beast Boy until he grew out of the Atomic Kraken's grasp. He kept growing, larger and larger, until he touched the shallow seabed. He grew larger still, rising in a geyser of ocean that broke the surface and tossed the Kraken.

A leviathan emerged from the waters to terrify Control Freak. It easily dwarfed the Kraken, which already dwarfed the dock. Doubly dwarfed, Control Freak stared in horror at the creature. Its face was a twisting nest of tentacles and eyes. Its chitinous armor glistened wet, so green that it turned black in the sun.

Two grand pincers emerged from its long shell to grasp the Atomic Kraken. It lifted the Kraken whole from the water and over its tentacled maw, where it tore the mechanical beast apart. Flames and sparks bled from the dying Kraken before the leviathan consumed it whole. Its wreckage vanished into the leviathan's maw, crunching metallically, spraying wreckage into the ocean.

Its meal finished, the leviathan's thousand eyes fell upon the dock. Control Freak felt death brush its hand up his back beneath the gaze of this otherworldly monster. He dropped to his knees and sobbed as its claws descended upon him. "No! No, please!" he wailed, and covered his head. Rivulets of water poured from its claws, drenching him in brine. Fetid breath blew the hat from his head as the leviathan's tentacles reached for him.

He screwed his eyes shut and screamed.

For one endless moment, Control Freak prepared himself for the end of all things. He heard a loud splash that ended the leviathan's rumble. When he found the courage to look, he discovered the leviathan's absence. Beast Boy stood on the dock, soaked to the bone, swaying and reeling as though he'd just been spun for a solid hour.

"What did…? Where did I go just now?" the dizzy shapeshifter muttered, and clutched his head.

Control Freak crawled to Beast Boy and threw himself over his boots. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" he cried, and kissed Beast Boy's salty soles. "Thank you!"

Beast Boy found his footing, and then gagged at the villain atop it. "Ugh, cut it out. And you're under arrest, dude."

"Damn right, I am," yelped Control Freak. He hugged Beast Boy's leg. No amount of shaking would remove him. "Just don't turn into that thing again," he begged.

Beast Boy's innards froze. He remembered looming over the docks, and rending the Kraken apart, and reaching for Control Freak. But what animal had he been? A giant squid, right? Only, no, he'd had claws. And tentacles. How?

A primal urge answered Beast Boy. Something inside of him wanted to grasp the prostrate villain, to shape Beast Boy's hands sharp, and tear, and rip, and feed.

He shook the thought away in a spray of water. When he looked down again, Control Freak had resumed kissing his feet. "Um, that isn't helping you. I'm still taking you to jail," he said.

"Oh, thank you!" sobbed Control Freak.

* * *

Traffic yowled at Tek. Honks, high-beams, and screeching tires made Tek cringe inside her helmet while she jogged between cars at a brisk forty miles an hour. The rear camera streaming in her heads-up display was a string of shaking fists and angry shouts that worsened her cringe.

"I need my own Tekmobile," she mused breathlessly, and passed a Mack truck without signaling. "Or maybe a bus pass."

Down the row of stumpy skyscrapers, Tek spotted her destination. Police cruisers semi-circling the entrance gave it away. The flashing blockade of black-and-whites cordoned off the front of a boxy building wedged between a department store and an office building. Neon lettering identified the store as _The Electronique_. Aside from the row of armored police officers aiming rifles at the storefront, the scene seemed peaceful.

She spied a familiar trench coat flapping between the heavy gear and stomped up to the old cop inside the coat. Her tremoring steps made him turn and start even before she reached him. "Oh, super. Here comes the circus," Smith said, and lowered his gun.

Tek leaned on her knees. "I'm here. What's the problem?" she asked between breaths.

Smith scowled. He leaned around Tek, looking behind her. "What, just you? Where's the rest?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She straightened, finding her breath at once. "I can handle things here. Things here are totally under control. So…what's the deal here?"

A second passed as Smith pierced her visor with a hard look. The armored officers behind him tensed, watching the scene, miming his tension. When he shrugged, they relaxed. "Okay, kid. We've got one-plus suspects cornered inside and at two friendlies possibly down. The responding officers broke contact ten minutes ago. No ID on the weirdness in there, but the people we evac'd are good and upset. Called the perp a 'one-man army,' if that means anything to you."

Her helmet swiveled to either side. She couldn't help but notice the decidedly sedentary attitude of Smith's Special Crimes Unit. Anything that they hesitated to tackle made the hairs on the back of her neck slither against the inside of her armor. "So why are you out here and not in there?"

With a smirk, Smith retorted, "Orders from City Hall. If I think a situation is hot enough, I wait for the Titans. And I know you're all eager to earn that prime real estate the city up and gave you for your clubhouse."

"Great. Sure." Tek turned to the looming _Electronique_. The store stood silent and empty. Its neon display filled her ears with a deafening buzz that broke only for the pounding of her heart. Everything slowed down. The swirling lights of the police cruisers existed only to blind Tek. She could feel the eyes of every officer on the scene, and none of them thought she could handle this. She could feel it. They knew she would just screw everything up, and then—

A knocking on her arm pulled Tek out of her own suffocating thoughts. She looked down and met Smith's concerned stare. "Hey, kid? You okay?" His usually gruff tone had softened paternally. His hand rested on her arm.

Tek looked down further and saw her armor's hand clutched tight to the point of straining the alloy. She forced it open with a short breath. She could do this on her own. Not that she had a choice. "No problem. I'll radio back with the all-clear once I take this guy down," she said, and tapped the side of her helmet.

At Smith's nod, she crossed the barricade and clanked to the storefront. The doors slid apart with a chime. Tek lifted her arms and edged into the store. An afterthought opened the tops of her forearms to bear her cannons.

_Electronique_ was a sprawling field of aisles and displays bathed in fluorescence. Endless rows stood tall and packed with packaging of the latest gadgets, competitively priced, as the signage assured her. Beyond the aisles, escalators churned steps to and from the upper level where more great bargains, and possibly danger, lay.

Tek crept past the empty registers, having to turn sideways to fit between checkouts. The emptiness of the store gave her chills. Places such as these were meant to be teeming with people. As she looked around, her HUD and its sensors found nothing. No motion. No heat signatures. Not even an active computer. Just rows of gadgets and appliances at low, low prices.

Suddenly she heard a crash of glass and plastic from the upper level. Her armor's external mics found and amplified the sound, and caught the tail end of a voice cursing. Tek followed the sound to the escalators. She wedged herself onto the steps and trundled up.

The upper level consisted of an open ring of larger appliances. Televisions and home entertainment on one side, washers and dryers on another, power tools to her left, and refrigerators keeping watch behind her. The center held a display of home and office furniture.

"What's the matter, flatfoots?" A skinny boy all in red taunted two police officers bound to office chairs by an industrial extension cord. The boy leaned over one of the unconscious women, his hands on his hips. A broken stereo system lay at his feet. Pieces of the system were sprinkled over the woman's body. Blood dribbled from her hairline. "That was my greatest hit, y'all. I think the tune packs a wallop, don't you?"

Tek progressed from apprehension to relief to curiosity to outrage in the space of her first step off the escalator. She wasn't sure how a pipsqueak like him had incapacitated two officers, but she knew he wasn't going to get away with it. "Hey, you!" Tek barked, her voice ringing from her grille.

The boy turned. He didn't have an ounce of muscle or fat anywhere on his body, as evident by the ribs Tek could count under his tight red uniform. A red hood clung to his head and framed the dark goggles over his eyes. A circle clung to his spooned chest with a division symbol in its center.

"Hey!" he snapped. "Who in tarnation are you supposed to be? One of them police bomb disarmin' robots? I thought y'all had wheels."

Tek stopped and looked around, partly to check for accomplices, and partly to spot the hidden camera crew. This had to be one of those asinine shows where an unsuspecting victim—namely, her—became the butt of a nationally-syndicated prank. No one this stupid could warrant a Titan and SCU response. But there was no one else around, aside from the bleeding police officers bound before him.

She strode forward, fists clenched, cannons retracting into her arms. "Yeah. I'm a big, scary robot here to pound the stupid out of some wannabe thief. Oh, and by the way, 'math' is not a cool gimmick, 'Captain Divider.' Now hit the floor."

His face flushed red to match his uniform. "The name is Billy Numerous, sass-bot. An' how about I hit you instead?"

Billy hoisted an office hair and charged Tek, screaming at the top of his lungs. Tek stood, nonplussed, while Billy swung the chair into her with his whole body. The chair smashed against Tek's armored chest without imparting even a scratch in her enamel. Billy skidded to a stop behind her, confused, holding the broken back of his erstwhile club.

"You're tougher 'n you look," he said, turning with fists raised.

"Thanks. You're not."

Tek snatched Billy from the floor with one hand. Her fingers and thumb met around Billy's waist. He struggled against her grip, muttering slurs that offended and confused Tek. She would need to look up the word "polecat" later. But he clearly wasn't going anywhere.

She held him up to her scowling visor. "Quit struggling. You'll hurt yourself."

A sick grin twisted Billy's face. "Correction: **we'll** hurt **ourselves**!" he said.

With a nauseating slurp, Billy Numerous divided himself into two identical selves. The new Billy flowed from the original's upper half and coalesced atop Tek's arm. Both Billys grinned as the copy, or clone, or duplicate, jumped onto Tek's head. He wrapped himself around her helmet, filling her HUD with his division insignia.

"Nya-ha! Who's tougher now, Robo?" crowed the new Billy.

"You are, Billy!" the first Billy cheered.

Tek's free hand tore the second Billy from her face. She clapped him together with the first Billy. Both her massive hands wrapped around the squirming pair. "Okay, so you surprised me. But like I said, I…"

She didn't get to finish. Mirroring each other's sneer, the Billys divided again, stuffing Tek's grip with a total of four Billys. These all divided again, and again. They kept dividing when they became too much for Tek to hold, and all dropped to the floor. More than thirty Billy Numerouses stood up on front of Tek, who staggered back at the sudden tilt in odds.

"Get 'er!" Three Billys shouted in succession.

A wave of skinny and red crashed over Tek. Billys clung to her arms and wrapped around her legs and piled atop her shoulders and blocked her helmet with lewd expressions. Her gyros panicked and she toppled onto her back, buried beneath a writhing pile of Billys.

One Billy hammered her visor with laced fists. "Ha! Let's crack this tin can open," he whooped.

The fists in her face sparked something terrible in Tek. She sat up with a sharp movement that sprayed Billys across the room. The rest of them she batted aside. "Get OFF ME!" she snarled, and rolled into a crouch.

Several Billys picked themselves up and then started helping other selves off the floor. One of them had a bloody lip from the fall, which he pulled into a smile. "Ooh-wee! Lookie here, Billy. Somebody lit a fire under this girl-bot."

"I reckon she'll burn up 't this rate, Billy," another Billy said.

"Then let's stomp that fire for her own good, Billy!" a third cried, and mounted a dryer to take charge of his selves. "Get 'er! Again!"

A low growl started in Tek's thoughts and worked through to her grille, where it resonated underneath the disjointed shouts of the three dozen Billys. She met their charge in kind, pounding the floor as she waded into the Numerous wave.

Billys crashed off her armor like a tide against an unyielding pillar. She swept her arms, knocking them weightlessly over the heads of their other selves. But for every Billy she tossed, two more slurped into being, fresh and ready to stand against her. They clung to her armor, laughing, hooting, slapping the alloy until Tek's head rang inside and out.

Her anger swelled. It found its voice and roared. It consumed her every thought and vomited hatred. Its roar stripped Tek's throat s it took command of her hands. She smashed the floor with a two-fisted blow. Concrete, carpet, and Billys exploded in a shockwave that rattled the entire store.

A plasma screen television smashed against her shoulders. Tek whirled and snarled, and spotted a battalion of Billys hefting demo TVs from their stands. Working together, the selves heaved their televisions across the room to shatter against her fixed scowl.

"What's on TV, Billy?" one of the selves asked.

"Nothin' good, I reckon," his opposite cackled. Together, they hurled a widescreen set held between them.

Tek stormed through the television barrage. She tried to reach them to break their teamwork, but they kept multiplying. More TVs, more boxes, more stereos, more speakers, hammered her backward. Eating the last of her control, her anger pushed the cannons out of her forearms. They blazed with white light, spraying staccato death around the room.

A chorus of screams rose above Tek's tinny roar. The sound of terror broke her anger. She lowered her smoking cannons, reeling with the return of her mind. She gasped.

The world around her was a swiss cheese of smoldering holes. Her plasma bolts had burned into everything. Fire licked the carpet in a half-dozen spots. By some miracle, she had missed the two policewomen tied in the middle of the room. Past them, she saw a dozen heads poke nervously from behind whatever cover they could find.

She willed her cannons back into her armor. The sight of what they had wrought made her taste bile. She had almost murdered three people. Or thirty, depending on how she counted.

As she stared at her handiwork, a refrigerator driven by eight Billys plowed into her from behind. The Billys multiplied and pushed the massive appliance through her, driving Tek forward. She stumbled helplessly until they pushed her to the escalator. With a final heave, the Billys threw their refrigerator ram down the up escalator, shoving Tek down underneath it.

Her gyros wailed at her through her HUD, which blinded her with error messages and warnings. They were grossly unnecessary. Tek figured out her troubles all on her own as she bounced and rattled down the moving steps. The refrigerator shoved her to the steps, which groaned and grinded to a stop, unable to move past her pinned armor. When she tried pushing off of her, she felt another fall on top of the first, punching her with its landing. Another followed, and then another after that.

It was three more refrigerators piled atop her before she felt and heard the Billys descending down the other escalator with boxes lugged between them, the spoils of their victory. Their laughter pierced the pile of appliances atop her to burn in her ears.

"Aw, that hothead robot ain't nothin' but a can o' hot air, Billy!"

"Shoot, never mind her, Billy. Check out this blender I picked up. It was a real steal."

"Ten settings? Shee-oot!"

"You know it! Let's go steal some fruit and make smoothies!"

* * *

Pandemonium swamped the Convention Center. The streets around the colossal, domed coliseum teemed with panicked people pushing each other in their rush to escape. Uniformed police tried to direct the crowds into some kind of order, and were trampled for their trouble. Overturned cars lay across the streets adjacent to the Center, forcing the crowd into bottlenecks.

Cyborg gripped the steering yoke hard as he did his best not to mulch an innocent pedestrian under the CUTTER's treads. Their wailing siren pierced the crowd's hysterics enough to clear room for the tank to crawl through to the epicenter of the problem. But when they drew closer, even their siren became useless. The crowds were too thick, forcing Cyborg to slam the brakes.

He watched the rippling sea of people through the windshield. "This is pretty bad," he said.

The panic crashed over Raven's psychic defenses. She could barely deal with crowds on a peaceful basis. This raw, chaotic tempest of fear and confusion made her skull throb. She clenched her armrests and peered past the overturned cars. The panic's intensity was greatest in the direction of the Convention Center's main entrance, but a bus flipped on its side blocked her view. "It's worse over there," she said, and pointed. "We need to move."

The CUTTER's roof hatch retracted, revealing clear sky. Cyborg took Raven's hand, grumbling, "All that work to fix the tank, and I don't even get to use it. It's not fair."

Raven took to the air with a swinging Cyborg in tow. She slid her soul-self into his arms to keep hers from wrenching from their sockets. Together, they flew over the crowd and past the cars blocking them. What they found didn't improve either of their moods.

Six figures dangled from a street light next to the Center's entrance. They swung lazily in viscous cocoons that trapped them up to their shoulders. Five of the figures wore red hoods, the very kind used by acolytes of the Church of Blood. They swung stoically, their jaws clenched and eyes closed in either prideful resolution or a means of staving off nausea.

The last figure in the line possessed a robe of white, or so they surmised by the hood pushed back from her crop of iron hair. Her lined face puckered when she spoke in a commanding, almost regal tone. "You will release us now," she announced.

Standing atop a flipped Oldsmobile, her captor laughed. He possessed a strong build beneath his leather jacket and torn jeans. He carried no weapons. Likely the most memorable feature about him was that he possessed no head in the traditional sense, but instead an enormous spider whose body and long legs curled around his human half.

His mandibles spread for a scoff that loosed a stubborn scrap of web from his mouth. "You aren't going anywhere until your grand poobah shows up, y' old hag," he said.

"I am the Mother Méhymn," the woman insisted imperiously. "I speak for the Church when the Brother Blood is not present. You will release us. **Now**."

The crack of a blazing whip scorched her cheek. She turned and glared at the spider-head's accomplice, a svelte young woman standing next to the car. The girl coiled her fiery whip around a striking pink suit that may well have been painted on. Cat ears poked through her flowing blonde hair, presumably attached to her matching pink mask. "You tell her, Fangy. These Bloodheads think they rule the city, but we'll show everybody who's really in charge! Right?"

She lifted her whip to crack over the heads of the thinning crowd. A blue beam struck her hand, knocking the whip from her rattled grasp. She yowled and clutched her offended hand as her glare backtracked the beam to a silhouette descending from the sky.

"Fang and Kitten," Cyborg groaned in Raven's grasp. His sonic cannon glowed with another primed shot during their descent. "And here I thought we were responding to an emergency."

Kitten stamped her heeled boot. "Don't call me that! We're the real masters of this city, and you'll treat us that way! We are Catwoman and Fang!"

Raven settled Cyborg onto the street. She landed next to him, falling into her billowing cloak. A miserable expression radiated from her shadowy hood. "Catwoman, huh? Real original."

"Can we skip to the part where you give up? We've got somewhere we have to be," Cyborg said.

Snarling, Kitten threw her hands to her sides. Claws of fire erupted from her gauntlets. The fiery claws trailed behind her wild, enraged gesturing. "You Twerp Titans are gonna learn some respect. Get 'em, Fang!"

"Boys with the girls, Raven. I promise not to tell your bookstore boyfriend," Cyborg said, and then charged Kitten. "Titans, GO!"

Raven ascended in a swirl of blue cloak, guided by her rolling eyes. "You're still not funny," she said.

Cyborg's cannon sprayed sonic across the battlefield. He kept his aim tight to avoid the trapped or injured pedestrians. Kitten's acrobatics kept her one step ahead of his cannon. The car behind her crumpled and skidded back with the force of his misses. Frustrated, Cyborg tried to steady his aim with his other hand, but Kitten remained just shy of his beam.

She hand-sprang at him, melting gouges into the street. "Too much for you? Maybe you should give up before you taste the fury of Hellcat!" she cried. She coiled beneath his sonic cannon and then leapt over its beam, slashing his arm with her flaming claws.

The cannon didn't suffer, but her claws scorched long marks into Cyborg's plating. He yanked his arm back, mechamorphing away his cannon. His thumb rubbed the black marks to no effect. "Hey! I just buffed that!" he snapped.

Kitten ducked under his reach and scored his side with more dark marks. She sneered, and said, "If you can't stand the heat…"

Cyborg split his left palm down the middle, revealing a nozzle in his arm. A jet of white foam coated Kitten from head to toe. Her claws sputtered in the foam before flickering out with a cough.

"…you put the fire out," Cyborg finished smugly, and closed his palm.

"Eyargh!" groaned Kitten. She pawed at the foam, trying to wipe it off her bodysuit. "It's like a fire extinguisher just horked all over me!"

She hissed as Cyborg grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and hoisted her to eye level. "Yeah, well, that's what bad kitties get," he taunted.

Kitten shoved her gauntlet in Cyborg's face and slapped its side. A mixture of fire foam and mace sprayed from her glove. Cyborg howled and dropped Kitten, doubled over by the chemical agony on what little skin he had left. He clutched his face and staggered.

"Ha! And that's what 'you' get for messing with the Black Cat! Bad luck, hero," she jeered.

Tears in his eye, Cyborg shot, "Your costume's pink!"

High overhead, Raven skimmed the Convention Center's wall in hot pursuit of Fang. His human hands flipped middle fingers at her while his head's legs kept one step ahead of her. The spidery limbs propelled him to dizzying heights along the building's side. Whenever she got close, he leapt out of reach, landing five stories away.

Between the panic below and her own frustration, Raven felt her control slipping. Fang's catcalling didn't help. "You've got to be faster than that, goth freak!" he called between leaps. Glaring at her from above, he spread his mandibles to gurgitate a wad of webbing at her.

The viscous wad struck Raven's soul-self. She glared at him through the translucent barrier covered in web. "This is so unnecessary," she grunted.

She thrust her hand to the wall. The new brick shuddered, buckled, and tore free from the building as a wave of soul-self erupted from within, rending the mortar free from its rebar and beams. Fang jumped from the disintegrating wall with a shout, trailing debris from his sticky feet. He sailed across the street and grabbed the edge of an enclosed skyway strung between two office buildings.

Flying through the brick hail, Raven threw soul-talons from her hands. She saw Fang scamper under and behind the skyway. The people inside the glass screamed and ran to either building at the skyway's ends. Raven told herself it was because of the man with the spider head, and not because of the demonic figure with ebony claws reaching for them.

As she flew under the skyway, she fell into Fang's trap. Fang had pressed himself flat on the underside of the skyway. When she descended, she came right into his sights. His grin spat a slew of webbing that penetrated her talons.

She flinched and covered her face. The webbing enveloped her arm and hand. It felt warm and wet, with the consistency of stale mucus, and would not come off no matter how hard she shook.

Raven jerked back while her soul-talons merged into a new shield to deflect the poison barbs Fang spat next. She stared at her web-slimed hand, and suddenly realized that Dominic's phone number lay somewhere beneath. She hadn't memorized the number. By now, it could be smudged into illegibility.

Red rage flashed in her eyes. "No!" she shouted, her voice reverberating in the urban canyon of downtown. "NO!"

The webbing burst from her arm with a blast of black arcane. Her soul-self hammered Fang in the chest, propelling him through the skyway windows in a hail of broken glass. He smashed out the other side and kept going, long legs twisting behind him.

Fang vanished into a parking garage through its uppermost concrete barricade. Her anger's object gone, Raven's red glare drifted down to her hand. She read ten numbers that eased the knot in her stomach. Her eyes faded. Her hand trembled. She mashed her eyelids and clenching her hand until she felt the outburst inside her cool.

"Ahh! Ow! Ow!" Cyborg's cries opened her eyes to the ground. He staggered with Kitten on his back, her legs wrapped around his neck. She had hooked her finger in his cheek to yank his face. Her other hand had its long, manicured nails dug into his nostrils, pulling back on his nose. Every time he reached up to dislodge her, Kitten yowled and pulled harder, throwing his balance into disarray.

"Don't you ever tell me what to do, you stupid gear head!" she screamed in his ear, which she then bit. "You'll never stop the Thundercat! I will rule—!"

Ebony consumed the vibrant pink of Kitten's costume. She shivered, and then screamed as invisible force tore her off of Cyborg. Her costume yanked her across the battlefield and slammed her into the overturned Oldsmobile. The blackness seeped into the car's door to bend the metal around Kitten, trapping her in impregnable bonds.

Cyborg checked the remainder of his face while Raven floated above him. Insufferable smugness coated the surface of her features. Something less mirthful lurked underneath. "Need a hand? She looked like trouble," Raven teased him.

His elbows split to sprout machine cannons, which he aimed at Raven. She gasped at the cannons' thundering. Blue pellets whizzed past her and struck Fang, who hung poised above her in mid-pounce.

The pellets expanded into a sphere of impact foam that swallowed Fang up to his neck. He sailed past Raven and bounced on the pavement. All six of his ankles twitched at the edge of the foam as he rolled to a stop next to Cyborg, spitting and snarling, and altogether harmless.

The cannons slid back into Cyborg's arms. He leaned against Fang's blue sphere and grinned. "I think I'm okay," he said to Raven.

"Excuse me," the Mother Méhymn called from her high cocoon. "I'm sorry, but if you children are finished congratulating yourselves, could you possibly get us down?" Annoyance dripped in her frosty tone.

Raven set to work cutting and lowering the priests with a soul-sickle. Cyborg caught the cocoons and pulled them open one at a time. He heard sirens pushing through the thinned crowd, and saw nearly every emergency vehicle in Jump City push past the upended cars blocking the street. The magnitude of their response surprised him a little, as no one seemed hurt, and the property damage was nothing he hadn't seen before.

His unspoken question was answered by a black limousine that pooled into the battlefield in the midst of the rush of police and ambulances. While the cruisers swung into a circle around the Center's entrance, the limousine continued fearlessly until it reached the Titans, their captives, and their rescued.

Cyborg had just finished freeing Méhymn from her cocoon when the limo's door opened. Two burly men in robes emerged, an avalanche of muscle and menace that surveyed the situation. At a nod from Méhymn, they stepped aside. Both men fell onto their knees in reverence.

A figure appeared from the limo door. When he stood, he loomed. Robes of the deepest crimson flowed from his broad shoulders. He surveyed the scene, pushing a large hood back from his head. A golden helmet adorned his head, flared with the spiraling horns of a ram. A silver mask hid his face behind the gruesome visage of a skull.

Upon sight of the figure, the crowd thickened and swelled. Newly arrived police formed a wide ring around the limo. The crowd struggled to break through, screaming his name, jumping, cheering. Those in the crowd dressed in red robes fell to their knees and chanted. Many not in robes did the same.

"**Brother Blood**!"

"**Brother Blood**!"

The masked figure stepped past his burly bodyguards and approached the Mother Méhymn. Nothing else warranted his attention, least of all the throng raising his name to the heavens. "Are you well, Mother Méhymn?" he intoned. The mask made his voice resonate, or so the Titans surmised.

Mother Méhymn pulled free of the cocoon in Cyborg's grasp without a single word of gratitude. She offered Brother Blood a hasty bow. Her expression puckered into disapproval. "You are late," she said.

"I apologize, Mother. Are you well?" Deep concern rang through his mask.

The old woman brushed strands of web from her white robes. "I suppose it is just as well you exercised your habit of tardiness. There was an incident. I and the high priests are unharmed." With a distasteful glance back, she nodded to the two Titans, and said, "These two saw to our protection, such as it was. I suppose we owe them thanks for their samaritanism. Barbaric as it was," she added just loud enough to be heard.

Her words furrowed Cyborg's brow. But then Brother Blood surprised him. The towering high priest stepped around Mother Méhymn and bowed to Cyborg. It was a low bow, barely more than a nod, but it shocked the fervent crowd around them into silence, and drew an irritated gasp from Mother Méhymn.

"Please," said Brother Blood, lowering his helmeted head, "accept my deepest thanks for the protection of the Mother Méhymn and my priests. I am indebted to, and awed by, your selfless heroism."

Cyborg stared, stunned by the thanks, more so by the reverence it drew from the crowd. He shook his head clear and filled his gaping mouth with a smile. "Hey, we're just glad to help," he said.

He stuck his hand out to Brother Blood. Immediately, the two burly robes were at Cyborg's sides, menacing him back with dark glares. But Brother Blood gestured, and the guards stepped aside, cowed. Brother Blood stepped forward and shook Cyborg's hand warmly. His grip vanished into Cyborg's enormous grasp.

"Thank you again," said Brother Blood, who ignored the scandalized scoff of Mother Méhymn.

"You've done some great things for the city," Cyborg conceded. As much as Blood's appearance and position made his skin crawl, he found himself warming to the man. It wasn't hard to see why so many people looked to him for leadership. Not that Cyborg planned to be fitted for robes of his own. "The money and manpower you've donated to the reconstruction effort has been amazing."

An audible smile accompanied Blood's words. "And we have so much more yet to accomplish. I hope we can work together for a brighter future." He broke grips with Cyborg and offered his hand to Raven.

Raven joined his hand with hers. Her eyes trailed up his vestments. His opal belt, cloak, and clasp all rang familiar with her. They weren't so different from her vestments. When her eyes reached his, a chill ate her spine. Her hand grew clammy in his warm, dry grasp.

"Thank you," he said warmly.

"Sure. No problem," mumbled Raven.

Brother Blood turned to the reverent crowd, his robe flaring with a wave of his hand. "My children, I offer my apology to you. In the wake of these events, I feel it is appropriate to cancel today's engagement. You will each be offered a refund or an invitation to a future engagement in recompense. But for now, please disperse peacefully and quickly, and allow our civil servants room to operate. Bright blessings of Blood upon thee."

"Blessed are we," arose a murmur through the crowd. The people around them turned and filed off of the battlefield, devoid of their former exuberance. Police officers staggered forward as the crowd they had contained simply left.

Brother Blood offered the Titans another shallow bow as Mother Méhymn ushered him back into the limo. The priests followed after, their heads bowed and hidden in hoods. Cyborg watched until the door closed and the limo pulled away.

"Tell me this isn't at least an eight-point-two on the weirdometer, right? …Raven? Raven?"

Raven's eyes were glued to the back window of the limo. Her gaze grew more distant with each passing second. She rubbed her hand where Brother Blood had touched her. Her fingers traced the lines of her palm, running over the numbers that were starting to smear. The chill persisted inside of her.

"Raven?" Cyborg's touch jolted her out of her reverie. She stiffened under his hand, startling it back. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Her voice wandered back into her throat. "No. I mean yes. I'm fine. It was nothing," she murmured.

Cyborg glanced at the bound villains de jour. The police rolled the blue ball filled with Fang toward a cruiser. They had to stop him at the door, through which he clearly wouldn't fit. As they pondered the problem, another pair of officers dragged Kitten after Fang. Her yowling slurs were drowned out by the scraping sound of the door wrapped around her.

"I know what you mean," he said. "I was half sure that the other two hits on the Alert were distractions for this. All these people? Recipe for disaster. But the happy couple here wasn't exactly 'End of the World' stuff. So why the synchronized mayhem? What could possibly be bigger than this Brother Bloodstravaganza today?"

* * *

Bushido sat in quiet contemplation of the orchestrated madhouse that Titans Compound had become. From his bench, he could see everything: the carnival booths lining the streets, the food vendor carts parked between them, and the small convoy of news vehicles parked inside the orange barricades blocking off the street. One such news van had thought to park in front of Bushido's bench, blocking his view of the modular stage. Its tires had mysteriously blown, forcing its owners to have it towed out of Bushido's view.

The work crews were just finishing with the stage. They erected a podium to stand directly before the impressive structure. Microphones emerged from the podium's top, curling up at a teamster who tapped and checked each one.

Reporters gathered at the foot of the stage like preening peacocks waiting to be fed. Their cameramen stood idly by, chatting with their counterparts from rival stations, enormous rigs propped on their shoulders. The sight of so many mustaches and wavy toupees made Bushido smile to himself.

A small girl pulled herself up onto Bushido's bench. She wore her scrubby hair in pigtails, and lugged a fearsome teddy bear after her. Once she had pulled the both of them onto the seat, and situated her bear so he could see the proceedings, she looked up at Bushido. "Hi," she said. "My name's Melvin. This is Bobby. What's your name?"

He glanced down at the little girl. "Ryuko," he said.

She shaped her mouth around the unfamiliar name. "Ree-yoo-koe?"

"Close enough. Hello, Melvin. Hello, Robert." He glanced around, and asked, "Where are your parents?"

"Aw, my dad's over there. He's a 'porter for TV news," she said. Her pudgy finger singled out none other than Hank McCoy, Jump City's premiere national correspondent, as he checked his nose for stalactites in the reflection off his cameraman's lens. "He couldn't find a babysitter, so I had to come to work with him today."

Both she and Bushido giggled at Hank's mugging as he warmed his face and voice up for the impending press conference. "You picked an excellent day to come. I imagine it will be quite exciting to see the Teen Titans."

She looked at him funnily, noticing the polished hilt at his waist. "Why do you have a sword?"

Bushido glanced down at her, pulling his attention fully from the proceedings. The little girl looked back up at him with unabashed curiosity, her gaze unfaltering. It was refreshing to see something besides fear and mistrust. "Truthfully, I am a Teen Titan."

"Really?" Her gaze traversed the lines of his keikogi and returned to his placid face. "Is that why you're in your pajamas?"

"That is precisely why I am in my pajamas," he said earnestly.

"Oh." She considered him a moment longer. "Well, why are you out here? Shouldn't you be inside with your friends?"

"The other Titans are not my friends," he told her.

"Why?"

"Because they do not like me," he said.

"Why?"

"Because they believe I did bad things."

"Why?"

Bushido blinked at her. "Are you certain your father is working right now? Perhaps you should go to him. Talking with strangers can be dangerous."

Melvin shook her head. "Did you really do bad things?"

He took a moment in answering. "Yes. I suppose I did," he admitted.

She tilted her head, and spoke with the sage wisdom of a five year old. "You can't do bad things if you're a Titan. Titans are good guys. Good guys can't do bad things. They do good things."

A condescending smile wrought his lips. "I am afraid it's more complicated than that, Melvin."

Her doe eyes cut through his smile as quickly as if she had used his sword. "Why?" she asked.

He started to speak, but then stopped, lost for words. A moment later, he nodded to her teddy bear, and suggested, "Perhaps you should ask Robert. He seems like a sharp fellow."

Another "why" blossomed in her lips, but was forgotten at the sound of a trumpeting fanfare. The street filled with ostentatious music that captured the attention of every person present. The crowd milling throughout the street drifted toward the stage, which still-working crews abandoned quickly to get out of the way. Camera crews sprang into action with their rigs. Reporters crowded against each other, vying for a better spot at the foot of the stage.

Melvin's stunted stature soon left her staring at the backs of the growing crowd. "I can't see!" she whined.

Bushido picked her up by her waist and stood on the bench. Lifting her to his shoulders, he raised both of their heads above the crowd. Melvin wrapped an arm around his forehead and squealed with delight as they watched the stage, waiting for the grand event to begin. Her other arm clutched Bobby so that he could see as well.

For several minutes, the music continued, sounding the arrival of nothing at all. The stage stood empty, while the crowd stood, confused. Everyone looked in every direction, trying to see what the music heralded, or for that matter, from where it came.

Then the stage erupted with a burst of black smoke that covered every inch of the modular paneling. Those eager reporters too close to the stage were caught in the cloud's edge, and coughed violently in the acrid smoke. A collective gasp of wonder travelled the crowd as they watched and waited for the smoke to clear. Only Bushido's sharp eyes spotted the rapid flash of five shapes entering the cloud from behind.

As the cloud cleared, silhouettes emerged in the smoke. The crowd began to cheer wildly, clapping and crying out. But when the smoke dissipated, their cheers fell to silence, squelched by confusion.

Recognition of four of the figures drew screams of panic from the quicker in the crowd. They recognized the malevolent leers of Mammoth, Jinx, Shimmer, and Gizmo, who flanked the figure standing behind the podium. Though the villains remained stoic, the crowd erupted into a panicked frenzy, tearing itself apart as its people ran from the frightening fivesome.

The figure behind the podium tapped the bouquet of microphones as he cleared his throat. He wore two-toned armor of blue and red in a design that rang familiar with anyone in Jump City.

Melvin gasped and clutched Bobby to her chest. Only Bushido's deft hand kept her from toppling from his shoulders. "It's Slade!" she shrieked.

Having worked for the villain in question, Bushido knew better. He frowned, and said, "Not quite…"

"Thank you all for coming out today," the figure said through a featureless mask. "I'm very glad to see such a turnout for our 'grand opening.' It's all very exciting."

As the panicked mob reached the end of the street, the barricades blocking traffic erupted with greenish light that spread in a wall to block the street from sidewalk to sidewalk. The momentum of the crowd carried it into the wall, smashing those fleet in front into an unforgiving barrier that was every bit as solid as stone. More green barriers flared along the sidewalks from hidden projectors. The walls met high overhead, and then turned inward, sealing the street in a green dome of impenetrable energy.

Trapped, screaming, the crowd had no where else to turn. They looked back to the booming voice behind the podium, which halted long enough to glance at Gizmo. The grinning imp pulled his hand away from the force field controls of his rig and tapped another button. Immediately, the music filtering from his pack stopped.

"There we are. Now, as I was saying, I'm glad you all could come. My name is Ravager," the man behind the podium explained calmly. "And you are all going to die. I understand this may be an inconvenience for some of you, but, well…that's life, isn't it?"

The cameras remained fixed on him as he grasped the podium and heaved it aside, filling the air with the hiss of feedback. Reporters backed away in fright as he and the others walked to the edge of the stage. Lilac hex danced in Jinx's eyes as she grinned malevolently down upon the cowering news crews.

"Dibs on the media," she purred.

"Dibs on the hot dog stand," Mammoth said.

"Dibs on the ho…damn it," Gizmo said a second too late. He crossed his arms with a huff.

Ravager silenced them all with a gesture. From that gesture appeared a sharp shuriken bearing a stylized 'R.' He coiled and threw it overhead, where it exploded, spilling smoke across the panicked crowd. The air grew thick and black, turning the crowd into a stampede.

"Teen Tyrants, TERRORIZE!" he bellowed.

**To Be Continued**


	11. Terrorize: Welcome Home

* * *

**Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Terrorize**:_ Welcome Home_

"This just doesn't make any damn sense," Cyborg groused. He leaned up next to Raven against the side of the CUTTER and stared down at the screen on his arm. A map of the city glowed beneath the Titan Alert System. Two green dots pulsed on the map, one of them at his location. A third yellow dot blinked halfway across the city.

The CUTTER sat in the shadow of the Convention Center, parked between police cruisers and ambulances on the street. City work crews had arrived to clear out the battlefield and repair the craters in the road. Though the orange-vested crews shot dirty looks at the Titans while sweeping debris, they gave the CUTTER a wide berth. Everyone did, save for the lone police transport parked next to the tank.

Three officers tried to roll the blue foam ball that incarcerated Fang up the ramp of the transport. The ball was a hair too large for the gaping back of the truck, leaving the officers to fit him in with Sisyphean results. Kitten, in the meantime, cooled her heels at the foot of the ramp with the officer in charge, waiting for her turn into the truck.

Looking at the pair, Cyborg couldn't believe that they had just decided to make a brazen display of force at a major event on a whim. Nor could he believe in a coincidence that tied up the rest of the Titans with two other emergencies at the exact same time. Someone had obviously orchestrated the attacks. But which attack was real, and which were the fakes?

"Bonnie and Clyde here aren't the masterminds," he mused aloud. "We'd better check with the others."

The map on his arm de-rezzed into static. Seconds later, Beast Boy's image replaced it. A squad car was visible behind him, its lights dancing like those of the cars parked around Cyborg. Mechanical wreckage carpeted the dock behind Beast Boy, some of it dressed in flamboyant rags. "_Ahoy, Cy._"

Cyborg blinked. "Uh, okay. Are you all right?"

"_Aye. I mean, yeah. Control Freak showed up at the docks. He tried to make off with some junk in a warehouse, so I whupped his poop deck._"

Cyborg's brow creased. They hadn't heard from Control Freak in months. Obviously, his physical therapy had gone better than expected. But simple robbery, however flamboyant, wasn't Control Freak's style. His crimes typically had far nerdier impetuses. "What was he after?" asked Cyborg.

Beast Boy squinted at something off-screen. "_Dunno. Machine parts, I think. Does it matter? The cops are here, hauling him off to the brig. I mean, jail. Sorry, it's been a piratey kind of day."_

"Piratey?" Raven echoed dubiously.

"We just went toe-to-toe with a cat girl and a guy with a spider for a head. We got no room to talk," he told Raven. Back to Beast Boy, he said, "We're secure on our end. The Brother Blood thing's been called off, and everybody's safe. You heard from Tek?"

The screen on Cyborg's arm shoved Beast Boy's image aside to make room for Tek's beleaguered face. She stood with a downtown street behind her, which was lousy with disarray. Flipped police cars and parked ambulances made traffic impossible. Tek, sans armor, looked tired and pained, but otherwise unharmed.

"_I'm here,_" said Tek. She combed her fingers through her short, dark hair, kneading her scalp. "_I just got my tin can handed to me by some skinny meta. Billy Number-something. He dropped a bunch of fridges on me. Then he overwhelmed the SCU outside._"

"'He' overwhelmed…?" Cyborg repeated.

"_He. They. It's a complicated pronoun situation. Took a bunch of electronics and stuff. I need to fish Lieutenant Smith out of a tree now. He's pretty…Um, he's pretty high, and he's yelling stuff. Mean stuff. I think he's mad,_" she said, and winced.

"Hold up," said Cyborg. "We need to figure this out. We—"

Beast Boy and Tek both lit up with surprise as their images were superseded by the Alert map. Cyborg's arm blinked a fourth point of emergency onto the map, one whose corresponding location was miles away from any of them.

It took Cyborg only a second to recognize the location. He'd spent every day of the last month there on a construction site, building their home with his own two hands and a battalion of expensive LexCorp construction drones.

Cyborg shouted a word that made every city laborer and police officer in the area crick their necks. They stared as his fist pounded the side of the CUTTER so hard it made Raven jump away from its side. "The Compound!" snarled Cyborg.

""_The Compound?_" Beast Boy and Tek asked in unison.

"What? It's starting already?" shrieked Kitten.

Every eye in earshot turned on the skinny blonde in pink. The officer babysitting her shrank back as Cyborg stomped toward her. Cyborg's steps shook the ground, knocking loose the false bravado in her features to reveal her true fear. He grasped her arms and lifted her face to his. His head turned, bathing her in the light of his furious ocular implant. "What's already started?" he demanded.

Her quivering lips moved out of synch with her thoughts as she stammered an answer. "H-He said today was a tr-tryout, a-and if we did right, we could j-join—"

"Join** what**?" he snarled.

Fang, upside down in his foam ball, shouted at Cyborg, "Leave her alone! S'not like you can stop it anyway. It's already happening."

Cyborg dropped Kitten, ignoring her squeal, and marched up the transport ramp to Fang's wedged foam ball. The officers trying to push Fang in leapt aside, practically thrown by the ramp's bouncing under Cyborg's stomping feet. Cyborg held Fang in place with one hand, leaning down into Fang's gruesome face. "Start making sense, or I'm gonna go 'water spout' on your itsy-bitsy ass."

Sneering, Fang said, "Some guy. Got a real 'Slade' vibe about him, but he's a lot younger, and he's got twice as many eyes. He sent out word to all the real players in the city that today was auditions. Gave us a place and a time, and told us that if we did well enough, we could be part of his big plan."

Cyborg growled. "You were bait."

"Looks like," Fang spat. "What a gyp."

"That's our home, you wall-crawling son of a bitch!"

A pale hand caught Cyborg's punch halfway to Fang's flinching face. The ebony ether behind it kept Cyborg from spattering the villain. "Don't do it," Raven told Cyborg, and lowered his fist. "Besides, we have bigger problems."

His fist uncurled and fell limp out of her grasp. He scalded Fang with one last, nasty glare, and then shoved the ball hard. Foam shavings flew off the edge of the door as Fang's spherical bond reshaped itself to fit the inside of the truck. Fang slammed into the back wall with a startled yelp and a clang.

Cyborg marched down the ramp, bending it in his anger. A black afterthought of Raven's tossed Kitten into the truck with an ethereal hand. Raven followed Cyborg back to the CUTTER, which had already started at Cyborg's unspoken command.

"BB, meet us at Tek's location. We have to get back ASAP," Cyborg said into his arm. He darkened its display without waiting for any answer. The CUTTER's entry ramp lowered at a snail's pace. He was tempted to rip it out of its housing just to get in faster.

Raven countered his toe-tapping impatience with calm. "Who do we know that has a 'Slade' vibe?" she asked.

"The question is, who are we gonna beat who has a 'Slade' vibe? I just built the damn place, Raven. For God's sake, Beast Boy hasn't even tracked mud in yet. Some of the paint's still wet!" he spat.

Raven didn't like the Compound. Not even a little. It was too public, too big, too bright, too close, too noisy, and in too crowded an area. She had objected to everything about it from day one. "Home" was just a word, and not a particularly weighty one to a demonic sorceress from another dimension.

But the pain she sensed under Cyborg's anger made Raven's mind for her. Her soul-self poured into the CUTTER's hatch, speeding its parts to the point of breaking. The hatch slammed down next to Cyborg, who jumped back in surprise. He looked to Raven as she floated over the hatch ramp.

"So let's go save it," she said.

* * *

Chaos reigned inside an elongated green dome outside of Titans Compound. Beneath the energy barrier, a human stampede crashed from end to end. They tore down tents, bright banners, booths, and tables erected for a festival that now lay underfoot. People in the crowd tripped and were trampled, vanishing under a panic of feet. Behind that panic, something much worse chased it, egging it on.

Mammoth bent and hefted an entire booth. The ring toss game above him cast a long shadow over the people teeming around his legs. He laughed, a short and ugly kind of barking that came from deep in his stomach. With a heave, he sent the booth into an arc high above the crowd. It fell in a crash of rotting wood and aluminum piping that swallowed a man and his scream.

Billowing winds carried Jinx above the stampede. Hex bolted from her fingers to bewitch the banners strung over the street. The plastic sheets banded together into the ropey shape of a giant beast, whose fluttering claws tossed people through the air. Screams trailed behind the people thrown by the banner golem. The muffled crunch of bone and organ awaited them at their landing.

"What's the matter?" jeered Jinx. Fire blossomed in her hands. She stretched it into a ceiling that descended upon the crowd, alighting the air with dancing flames. "You should all be having fun. It's Titans Day, right?"

Ravager stood behind the stage, observing the panic with a chest bursting with pride. He turned back to an imp grumbling at the Compound lobby doors, and said, "Well, things seem to be going well out there so far. Your barrier is working like a charm."

"Super-keen," Gizmo grumbled sardonically. He grasped a data jack extending from the tech pack strapped around his shoulders. The jack was plunged into a security panel next to the doors, trading code at Gizmo's unspoken command with the central mainframe of the building. "Now shut the hell up so I can disable their security. If we don't get inside, all of this 'terrorizing' is just foreplay without payoff."

"Colorfully put," Ravager conceded.

One man stood as a blue-suited oasis in the hysteria. Hank McCoy, microphone in hand and hair still fabulous, shouted above the panicked din that was buffeting his cameraman. "I'm reporting live on the steps of the new Titans Compound, where festivity has given way to disaster. An unprovoked attack by the metahumans who menaced Jump City for months—"

The ground beneath the cameraman transformed into a cement quagmire. Hank watched in horror as his cameraman and five other nearby people fell into the soupy ground, splashing out of sight with little more than startled gasps. They revealed behind them the scandalous Shimmer, who coaxed the ground solid with a touch. She strutted across the recongealed sidewalk, little caring about the six people entombed beneath it.

"I'll save you some breath, pal. We're the Teen Tyrants," Shimmer said. She filled her leather-strapped chest with a breath, and then blew Hank a kiss of pure chlorine. The gas toppled Hank. He writhed on the ground, coughing, gasping, grasping at his throat, and rolled at Shimmer's boots.

"DADDY!"

The scream drew Shimmer's sick smile up from Hank. She spotted a figure all in white atop one of the news vans. A little girl clung to his shoulders with a teddy bear wedged against his back. Both the bear and the girl reached out for Hank, hoping to stretch the impossible distance. The boy in white who carried her appeared annoyed by his burden's sobs.

Shimmer's smile sickened. "Hey, I remember you!" she said, and snapped her fingers. "One of those Titan wannabes from before. The ninja, right?"

Tears swam in Melvin's eyes as Shimmer kicked Hank aside to stalk upon the news van. She crushed her face into Bobby's tummy. Then she felt her stomach fly as Bushido dropped to the ground.

"In the future, 'stay quiet' means to stay quiet," Bushido admonished her.

After setting her on the ground, he put his elbow through the window of the van and unlocked its door. Blood dribbled from the jagged bottom edge of the window, and swept through the pristine white of his sleeve.

Bushido ignored Melvin's goggling stare as he opened the van. He set her on the passenger seat and, as an afterthought, buckled her in with the belt. "Do not move unless someone you know comes for you. Do you understand?" Melvin trembled, unable to speak. Shimmer was all but upon them, her hands twisting the air with anticipation. But Bushido's voice never wavered or rose, and his face remained sternly calm. "Do you understand?" he asked again.

Even as Melvin nodded, she whispered, "Don't go."

Shimmer reached for the van, her eyes glistening with possibility. Bushido kept watch of her from the corner of his eye, which dived into Melvin's, plunging a fragment of his courage into her. "You will not be harmed," he told her.

Mere steps away, Shimmer lunged for Bushido, already grasping at the molecules of his keikogi with her power. Bushido whirled away and swung the door back toward its housing, startling Melvin into shrieking. Snarling, Shimmer lunged again, intent on snagging Bushido. She failed to notice that he hadn't closed the door all the way. He swung it back open hard, catching Shimmer with the very edge of the door. It bounced off her face and closed while she staggered back with a fountain of blood for a nose.

"Ah! You bastard!" Shimmer roared, clutching her face.

Bushido darted past her clumsy grasp. He cracked her hard across the seat of her tight leather pants with his palm, knocking her forward into the side of the van. "At least my parents knew each other's names, whore. Is poor parentage the reason you do not know how to dress, or is that just symptomatic of indiscreet promiscuity?" he taunted, speaking quickly.

With a scream, Shimmer pushed off of the van and chased Bushido into the stampede, forgetting completely about Melvin.

The people already running from Jinx and Mammoth didn't give Bushido another glance, but they did recognize Shimmer. Her presence made the stampede fragment and collide into itself. Bushido danced between the panicked fragments. Shimmer, unable to concentrate, had to shove and struggle while she was buffeted back from her quarry.

The stampede offered Bushido cover that he knew he couldn't afford. Eventually Shimmer would just atomize everyone in her way to get to him. But while he had it, he hid and followed the crackling pink witch overhead. She wasn't hard to track, hovering above her banner golem, directing it with wild gestures as if it were a marionette.

The golem, tinged with pink chaos, reached down to crush a pair of teenagers dressed in matching Titan T-shirts and clutching an autographed picture between them. The teens screamed and cowered beneath the looming banner-hand.

Bushido leapt from the crowd in a flash of fluttering white. His sword left its sheath with uncanny speed as though it hungered for the work. A single stroke robbed the golem of its hand and covered the teens in a sheaf of sliced banner. Bushido landed on a parking meter, balanced precariously for an instant, and then leapt again. His sword cleaved the golem in half, ending its reign over the crowd with a shower of colorful plastic fabric.

"Hey, that was mine!" Jinx cried.

A trio of plastic black pellets answered her from Bushido's blind toss. He was already on the ground and running again. As Jinx descended to follow, she swatted the pellets aside with hex. They exploded violently, throwing Jinx back with a shriek and a clap of smoke.

Mammoth heard the explosion over the sound of the screaming around him. He dropped the pickup truck above his head and saw a white blur charging at him from the direction of the sound. "Hey, I know you," he drawled.

Bushido's running jump became a kick that rattled Mammoth's back teeth. Bushido landed behind the toppling giant, sword in hand, and then dove above the heads of the crowd to skid onto the stage.

Ravager heard Bushido's landing on the modular paneling. He turned and saw Bushido charging toward the door. The flash of a katana chased Ravager aside. "Gizmo, move!" he shouted too late.

"Huh?" Gizmo turned away from his work and saw a silver flash. As he ducked reflexively, Bushido's sword severed his data jack. Feedback seized Gizmo's body with agony while Bushido spun, knocking Gizmo away with a horse kick.

Bushido whirled and caught a crashing saber with his katana. Ravager stood behind the saber, applying considerable effort to its task of halving Bushido. Their hilts locked in their struggle, pitting the swordsmen face to face.

"You're quite the lingering nuisance," growled Ravager.

"I've been called worse by far better men," Bushido answered through his teeth. "Usually right before I killed them."

The swordsman in white abandoned their contest of strength and ducked. As Ravager stumbled forward, Bushido bounced, burying his shoulder into Ravager's stomach. The villain stumbled back and struck the stage. He jumped and rolled backward, climbing onto the stage in one smooth motion.

The stampede had slowly transformed into a ring of terrified silence, spellbound by the self-proclaimed Tyrants gathering on the stage. Their fun forgotten, the terrible teen villains converged around Ravager, who backed all the way to the podium at the stage front. He drew a second saber from his back to match the first. His eyes smoldered inside his featureless two-toned mask.

"I've heard about you, you know," he told Bushido while his Tyrants lined up around him. "You should be working with us, not against us. Just name your price, and you'll have it. I know what kind of person you are."

Bushido climbed onto the stage slowly, his sword trailing at his side. His posture softened. He stared down at the katana in his hand, lost in its reflection. Silent words rolled from his lips in a prayer that no one heard. Then, with the blade's tip, he gouged a line in the stage between the Tyrants and the compound.

"Then you know that crossing this line won't end well for you," Bushido said.

Ravager scowled. "Fool. No one denies me." He lifted his sabers into a cross. They intersected in his vision across Bushido's resolute expression. To his Tyrants, Ravager said, "Kill him. Destroy the base. Leave the people for the after-party."

Bushido gripped his katana in both hands. A slow breath emptied him of everything he did not need.

"Attack!"

Screams swamped the crowd at the Tyrants' charge. The stage shook beneath their onslaught. The air crackled and trembled. Bushido held his ground, his blade at the ready, his features calm. Only his heartbeat betrayed his excitement.

Halfway across the stage, the Tyrants' charge was met by a blur of white. Bushido darted into their midst, forcing them to stop and change direction. That half-second of indecision gave him all the time in the world to strike back. In another life, he would have killed two, maybe even three, before the rest of them noticed the blood underfoot. In another life.

The flat of his katana slapped Shimmer hard, knocking her into Mammoth's swinging fist. He pulled his punch enough to avoid killing his sister, but he couldn't stop himself completely, and launched her off the stage.

Gizmo ascended onto his spidery stilts to squash Bushido. Cackling, he stomped his long legs through the plywood paneling, rending the framework beneath it. Each near miss peppered Bushido with splinters. "C'mon, Hong Kong Phooey! Let's tap dance!" Gizmo taunted. Cannons slid over his shoulders. They tossed Bushido into the air with a concussive blast of energy that cratered the stage.

The stomping stalks came closer to cleaving Bushido with every blow. Bushido bided his time, bleeding from the tiny cuts the peppering shrapnel drew into him. As Gizmo's tall rig leaned to one side, punching through the stage to obtain a shooting solution on the swordsman, opportunity arrived.

Bushido swung his katana with his entire body, driving its blade through the knee joint of the stalk. Hydraulic fluid gushed from the severed limb upon which Gizmo leaned. The leg slid apart. Gizmo's pack whined in effort to compensate his balance, but his other legs were stuck in the stage. He screamed and collapsed, tearing the entire front half of the stage apart.

Bushido jumped back from the disintegrating stage floor. As he landed, a wave of hex ensnared him. He staggered under the agony of bad luck attacking every cell in his body. His muscles cramped into knots. His heart skipped a beat, setting fire to his chest. His tongue swelled, his lungs seized, and his vision went black. It left him woefully unprepared for the flying kick Ravager planted in his stomach.

As Jinx released Bushido from her hex, Ravager watched him fall to the stage just shy of the line he had drawn with his sword. With a vicious kick, Ravager knocked the swordsman back across the line. A gesture from the villain's gauntleted hand brought Mammoth trotting gleefully forward. The giant lifted Bushido by his leg and dangled him upside down, presenting him to the crowd.

"I want every one of you to take note," Ravager addressed the captive audience, facing the few remaining cameras. "This is what happens to dissidents. This is what will become of all who stand in our way. Now and forever, your lives belong to us. You are ours to use and to discard as we see fit." He turned back to Mammoth and drew his hand across his throat.

Mammoth grinned. He seized Bushido's neck with his other hand and held the wiry teen out in front of him. Glancing at his feet, Mammoth wiggled the toe of his boot over the line in the stage. "Heh. And you said we wouldn't cross your little line," he whispered conspiratorially to Bushido.

Bushido's bones creaked in Mammoth's grasp. His muscles screamed. His sword lay miles away across the stage. But his strained voice never wavered. "No. I said it would not end well for you."

He flicked his arm.

Mammoth roared in pain. He tossed Bushido aside and bent to his foot, which was pinned to the stage by a dagger, the blade of which stuck just behind Bushido's line. Blood pooled underneath Mammoth's foot.

In his rage, Mammoth broke the hilt off the top of his boot. He lifted his foot with a splash of splinters and blood, and grasped the blade protruding from his sole. His sausage fingers slipped off the blood, making the blade impossible to pull out.

Bushido tried to roll upon landing. His body wasn't up to the task, and he flopped and tumbled onto his back. When he tried to sit up, Ravager's boot shoved his shoulders back to the ground. The tip of a saber dug into Bushido's neck.

"What do you think you accomplished here?" Ravager demanded, snarling loudly enough for the hushed crowd to hear. "Why are you fighting us so hard?"

As Bushido gagged in reply, a bass rumble captured Ravager's attention. Far outside the translucent walls around the block, he saw the Titan's CUTTER roaring down the empty street, leading behind it a small army of police cars. Flashing lights sparked rage in Ravager's eyes as he turned back to the smiling swordsman at his feet.

"I wasn't fighting you. I was stalling you," Bushido croaked.

Ravager braced himself to shove his saber through Bushido's throat. His balance was thrown when the CUTTER's forward turret belched a gout of white fire into Gizmo's barrier. The green energy had been designed to keep people in, not plasma weaponry out. The barrier generators overloaded in tandem, vomiting sparks while the barrier melted away.

The captive crowd cheered wildly as they parted for the CUTTER, which screeched onto the street with locked, smoking treads. The CUTTER's roof and side hatches opened with a deluge of Titans.

Cyborg's sonic cannon trailed blue light as he lifted its sights on Ravager, and snarled, "You need to back the hell away from here, Mini-Slade. We puree our trespassers."

Ravager kicked Bushido aside. A sweep of his swords drew the rest of his team to him. Even Mammoth, who limped and cursed with each step. "You don't give the orders here, Titan," spat Ravager.

The reverberating voice narrowed Cyborg's eye in recollection. "Red X?" he asked, confused.

"Teen Tyrants, TERRORIZE!" Ravager bellowed.

Jinx swept the air into a tempest with a grand gesture. The winds descended upon the Titans, drawing debris from the ground to scrape them raw. While the Titans were blasted back, Shimmer stepped next to Jinx and thrust her hands at the apex of Jinx's tempest. The air at Shimmer's palms blackened into putrid smoke that Jinx's wind consumed, turning her tempest into a choking tunnel of smog.

The crowd screamed and ran, clearing the area. Now that Gizmo's barriers were gone, nothing held them back. Those too scared or injured to move sought shelter from the tempest's edge behind the few structures remaining or under those news vans still uncrushed. The vehicles teetered in the intense wind, their suspension wavering.

Even the CUTTER rocked in the heart of Jinx's focused storm. Cyborg grasped the side of the tank and squinted. His lung filters protected him from the worst of the roiling smog, but he could hear Raven and Beast Boy's coughing above the tempest din, and knew they couldn't last long.

Unfortunately, the hand steadying him was also his sonic cannon in disguise. If he let go to mechamorph it, he would be blown away. "Tek!" he bellowed into the wind. "Take Jinx out with your blasters!"

Tek bent low, fighting the wind with the sheer strength and weight of her armor. Her deadly blasters blossomed out of her forearms. She pointed them toward the pink glow beyond the edge of the black tempest pinning them to the CUTTER.

Her arms trembled badly with the memory of what her blasters had wrought the last time she had used them. Her armor rattled as she shook. As her HUD reticule squared over Jinx, she threw her arms aside. The blasters retracted into their housings. "I…I can't!" she shouted into the smoke, unable to see Cyborg, and glad he couldn't see her. "My guns are…jammed."

A green beam lanced through the billowing smoke. The beam missed the Titans by sheer chance. Every hair on their bodies stood on end at the electrostatic charge following the beam as it struck the CUTTER. The tank's face glowed white hot, and then slumped forward, cooling into a radioactive red sludge. Its horn warbled one final time before the front of the tank melted into itself.

"Damn it!" swore Cyborg. "Raven?"

Raven, bent upon her knees, chest burning for clean air, squinted up into the source of the tempest beating her down. Her face curled into a nasty smile.

Outside of the tempest, Jinx shot a sidelong grin to Shimmer, whose hands continued feeding her wind with smog. "I'm thinking another minute of this, and they'll be corpses."

Adjusting the aim of his cannons, Gizmo spat, "If you'd let up with your wind tunnel, they'll be dead in two shots." Gizmo squinted into the swirling windstorm, trying to find another target. His glassy eyes bugged at a dark shape emerging from the wind.

In a burst of smoke, the CUTTER tumbled out of the tempest, encased in impossible blackness that turned it into a negative image. Gizmo's scream led his fellow Tyrants in a mad scramble to escape the CUTTER's growing shadow. The CUTTER pulverized the ground where they had stood. Its side crumpled against the ground, grinding the street as it slid to a stop.

Four Titans strode through the dissipating wind, scowls and idioms ready to face the self-proclaimed Tyrants of Jump City. A fifth figure limped into their formation, forming up at Tek's flank with his sword in hand. Cyborg grimaced at Bushido, but turned back to the bigger threat at hand.

Ravager crossed his sabers. His glare met Cyborg's from betwixt the blades. He announced, "You cannot beat us, Titan. We rule this city. Surrender now, and I'll grant you a quick death. It's far more than you deserve."

"Now, this is weird. I'm hearing Slade, but I'm seeing a cheap 'Made-in-Taiwan' knockoff," said Cyborg.

Hatred burned inside Ravager's mask. "Don't you dare speak his name, you filthy cadaver. You will rue the day you ever besmirched his legacy. You'll all pay for what you did."

Beast Boy's skin crawled, aching to don that of a predator to clean the meat from Ravager's bones. The desire was so fierce that it frightened Beast Boy. "So, are we gonna listen to Senor Monologue all day, or are we gonna squash this Fearsome Five?" he asked.

Sheathing his blades, Ravager motioned his Tyrants back with a sweep of his arms. "Enjoy your housewarming, Titans. We'll be back to finish what we started today. Fall back!"

At his final shout, he yanked two discs from his belt and hurled them at the Titans. The discs burst with radiance and thunder that staggered the Titans back, giving Ravager's Tyrants cover to disappear.

Slowed by his injury, Mammoth was last behind the others. He saw a handy news van parked along his avenue of escape. Digging his grasp into its sides, he hefted it over his head. "Here's some breaking news, geeks!" he bellowed, and flung the van.

Spots danced in Cyborg's eyes. The others seemed in worse sorts than he, clutching their eyes and ears. Computer-regulated senses sometimes had their advantages.

He saw the van flying through the bevy of spots. His arm mechamorphed into its cannon. "Everybody down," he bellowed.

Bushido knocked Cyborg's cannon aside, making the sonic stream spray wide. Cyborg was ready to backhand the assassin's head clean off his shoulders, but Bushido was already airborne, leaping straight at the van hurtling toward them. "Move!" he shouted.

Beast Boy streaked away as a cheetah. Raven melted into her own shadow. Cyborg simply ran. But Tek held her ground, shouting after Bushido. "Ry!"

Everything slowed in Tek's perceptions. She watched Bushido curl into a ball to crash through the van's windshield. Somewhere in the hail of glass, he straightened. His blade flashed. Then the van fell upon Tek, its grille meeting hers in an explosion of force.

Tek shielded herself with her arms as the van disintegrated around her. Metal roared and ripped. The van shoved her violently back as it swallowed her through its engine block. Her feet dragged trenches into the ground beneath the squealing wreck sliding to a stop.

When Tek opened her eyes, she stood waist-deep in the remains of the van. Its innards had blended into a slurry of upholstery, plastic, metal, and glass. Her armor's front was scratched and dented, but otherwise all right. Bushido was nowhere to be found.

"Ry? Ryuko?" she shouted, and waded out of the wreck. Outside, she saw the other Titans gathering around a white, dingy shape on the ground. Tek's armor flurried off of her body and into her back as she ran to them. She pushed past Raven and bent to the figure on the ground. "Ryuko!"

Bushido smiled dizzily. Clutched in his arms, a little girl with pigtails and a scuffed teddy bear sobbed into his chest, alarmed but unharmed. A nasty cut on his forehead masked Bushido's satisfaction in blood. More cuts littered his uniform, staining it red. "You are all right, Melvin," he told the little girl. "You are safe now."

The Titans stared, flabbergasted. Beast Boy turned to the wrecked van, and then back to Ryuko. He couldn't think of a single animal, or any combination of animals, that could get in and out of the van as Bushido had as quickly as he had. "Dude, how did you do that?" he asked.

"Stylishly," answered Bushido.

Cyborg stared down at the little girl with a pang. He hadn't even seen her in the van. He'd nearly blown her out of the sky. "Why?" he asked Bushido. "Why did you…?" He couldn't even finish the thought. It was anathema to him.

With a grin, Bushido gently rocked Melvin, trying to soothe away her tears. "Titans do good things," he said.

* * *

Raven spread the medicated patch over Bushido's forehead, sealing his last cut beneath antiseptic gel and gauze. She pressed the adhesive edges of the patch down none too gently. "There," she said, and stepped away from the biobed. "You can put your shirt back on."

Bushido examined the bandages littering his naked torso. His gaze wandered across the interior of the Compound's Sickbay. The finest in medical equipment and supplies surrounded his and four other biobeds. Glancing down at the simple bandages over his cuts, he asked, "Do you not have something more…super? Bio-regenerative enzyme paste, or dermal cellular regenerators? You could even heal me with your powers, could you not?"

She pulled his gi top off the back of her chair and tossed it in his face. "I sure could," she said, and then stalked out of Sickbay.

As Raven passed through the sliding double doors, Cyborg poked his head in. He watched silently while Bushido donned his keikogi. The swordsman didn't acknowledge Cyborg's silent glare. He tied his sheath around his waist, hiding its strap beneath his teal sash. It he was in pain, Bushido's face never revealed it. Only his ginger movement hinted at the twinges he felt.

Bushido tried to exit. Cyborg filled the doorway with his broad chest and folded arms. Bushido glanced up at the mismatched glare in his way, and said, "Are you now going to incarcerate me for trespassing? As I recall, you invited me in to tend to the wounds I incurred while defending your base."

"No, we dragged your ass in here after you got schooled by a second-rate lineup of our rogues gallery," Cyborg corrected him. "And no, we aren't holding you. God knows I wish we could."

"Ah," Bushido said, and nodded. "Then thank you for the ass-dragging and medical attention. If you will excuse me, I will show myself out."

Cyborg didn't move, and so neither did Bushido. "You're not going anywhere, are you," Cyborg said. It wasn't a question.

"No," Bushido agreed. "Not in the grander sense of things, at least. But I will leave the premises if I am not welcome."

"You aren't," said Cyborg. "We don't like you, and we don't want you, and if it wasn't for a really crappy court ruling, we would see you rot in prison for the rest of your life. You aren't a Titan. You aren't one of us."

Bushido's serene smile enraged Cyborg. "I would disagree. And I might point out, there were several reporters present for your press conference who would also disagree."

"I know. They're still outside," Cyborg said darkly.

Thin eyebrows rose in surprise above Bushido's self-satisfaction. "They are still here?" he asked, and tried to see past Cyborg.

Cyborg leaned to block him. He barely had to do even that, as his cybernetic bulk nearly sealed the doorway. "They're camped out front. Won't leave until they get a statement about the yahoos that wrecked today for us."

"I see. Would you prefer I left through a side door?"

Cyborg glowered in silence. He waited for Bushido to squirm, to confess to something. He waited for any kind of sign of the brutal murderer that had infiltrated the Tower last year to kill him. Aside from the smugness he saw, nothing of that murderer stood before Cyborg. He saw only the heroic boy who had risked his life against five-to-one odds to protect innocent people. It galled Cyborg to no end.

"Why?" Cyborg said.

"I assume you didn't want me seen leaving—"

"Why do you want to be a Titan?" Cyborg demanded impatiently. "Why are you trying so hard to convince everybody you're different now? Why the big switch?"

"I am different now," explained Bushido. "I will not deny my past…to the extent to which my legal counsel advises. But I know that my destiny now lies here, with the Titans. If that means sitting outside on a bench for the rest of my life, waiting to help, then so be it. I will not ask you to accept me, but I must follow my path as I see it. And my path lies alongside yours."

A tug of war raged inside Cyborg. He already knew which side would win, which made him fight all the harder. In the end, he thrust a fist at Bushido. It took the sum total of his willpower to uncurl his fingers, revealing a yellow communicator in his palm.

"We don't like you. Matter of fact, I hate your guts. But if you're gonna be up in our business, we might as well get some work out of you," he said.

Bushido's smile widened. His eyes twinkled, as though he had predicted this exact moment. But when he reached for the communicator, Cyborg's hand closed, freezing Bushido halfway to his prize.

Cyborg's implant eye blazed. His human eye narrowed into a sliver. "One slip. One mistake. One little, tiny, microscopic sign that this is all one big scheme. If any one of us sees anything like that, we will break you in half, toss you out the door for garbage pickup, and forget we ever made this huge mistake."

Bushido's smile dulled. "So noted," he said.

When he reached for the communicator again, Cyborg closed his hand once more. This time Cyborg's eyes burned with curiosity as well as disdain. "Why didn't you use your magic sword stuff? Energy fields and shields, that kind of thing? It might have made the difference in the fight," he said.

The last of Bushido's smile died as he drew his hand back. He rested the hand on the hilt of his katana, grasping the worn, weathered wrapping. "I used all the tools and skills at my disposal to save those people. I gave my best effort, as I always do, and always will."

"That's not what I asked."

"No. It wasn't."

Their stare lingered, long and uncomfortable. Finally, Cyborg tossed the communicator. It bounced off Bushido's chest before he caught it.

"Get down to the lobby. We'll give the press a quick statement. It's been a long day. We've got a room for you, right next to mine," Cyborg said, leaning down into Bushido's blank face. With a nasty grin, he added, "So I can keep an eye on you. Neighbor."

Cyborg stepped aside, allowing Bushido out to the sprawling hall of Sector Prime. The rest of the Titans leaned against the wall next to Sickbay's doors. They watched him with mixed reactions. Beast Boy looked sick to his stomach. Raven's scowl was all that pierced the shadow of her hood. Tek kept glancing between Bushido and the others, her face a mess.

With a nod to them all, Bushido strode down Sector Prime, his footsteps echoing in the uneasy quiet.

They waited until he disappeared through the security door. Then Raven said, "This is a mistake."

"But you voted him on the team," Tek said, confused.

"I know. It's still a mistake."

Tek stared after him. She reached reflexively into her belt, drawing out a small vial. She shook a white tablet out of the vial and popped it into her mouth. "Maybe he's changed," she said around the tablet. "Maybe he really does want to do good. He saved all those people."

"People don't change," Raven told her.

"No, people change," the tall, lanky, handsome Beast Boy said. Then he added, "But not that douche bag. He's gonna slit our throats in our sleep and then sell our organs on eBay."

Cyborg stepped before all of them. His looming presence ended the discussion at once. "No, he ain't. We're keeping him close so he can't cause trouble. Nobody takes their eyes off of him for a second. Not for one **second**. Anybody sees him twitch funny, you take him down fast and for good. No questions asked," he added darkly as Tek opened her mouth. Her lips snapped shut.

Beast Boy threw his arm around Tek's shoulder, herding her off the wall and through Cyborg's scolding scowl. "C'mon, Armor All. Let's go get rid of our adoring public. I'm bushed."

"Wait," Cyborg called as the others trickled past him. They stopped and turned at the nervousness in his voice. "Look, guys, I know we haven't talked about it yet, but… Well, with Robin gone, we need to decide who's in charge. We've been doing okay so far just managing ourselves, but somebody's gotta call the shots. I think we should—"

"Dude," Beast Boy chided him, "Come on."

Tek said, "Of course it's you. Duh. Right?" she asked, looking between Beast Boy and Raven.

Cyborg shook his head. "Guys, that's cool and all, but I really think—"

"Why are we still talking about this?" Raven asked. A smirk ghosted beneath the edge of her hood's shadow. Her eyes twinkled for just an instant. "Shut up and get outside before Bushido gets bored and murders someone out there."

Cyborg grinned. A sliver of the morning's enthusiasm edged into his downtrodden spirits. He trotted forward and scooped up Beast Boy and Tek, placing them each on a shoulder. "Well, then, my first decision is to go out there and let people know who they're dealing with. Let's show 'em the New Teen Titans are here to kick ass and take names."

As Cyborg jogged through Sector Prime, Beast Boy looked back from his bouncing perch. Raven lagged behind, walking calmly in their wake. "Hey, are you coming?" he called.

"You go ahead," Raven called back. "I'll catch the next cyborg and meet you outside."

She watched the others traipse through the security door. As they grew more distant, her steps slowed. She stopped entirely when they disappeared from sight. Her arm emerged from her cloak, lifting her hand to her hesitant expression. Ten smudgy numbers sat in her palm, barely legible.

It was a miracle she could read them after the slime, sweat, and general Titan shenanigans of the day. If left alone, the numbers would probably be washed out by midday tomorrow. She would never even remember them being there.

Raven stared at the numbers. They crinkled with her skin. Then she heard a ringing tone next to her ear. She glanced to one side and saw her communicator opened, its screen filled with the numbers from her palm. She didn't remember drawing her communicator, nor dialing. Panicking, she tried to shut the communicator, but then heard the ringing stop as the signal connected. A familiar voice spoke on the other end of the line.

"D-Dominic, hi, I…" She trailed off, listening as the voice continued through her stammering. A swell of relief filled her chest as she listened to his voice mail instructions. At a short beep, her panic returned twofold. "Dominic. Hi. Um, this is Raven…from the bookstore…"

* * *

"_What was supposed to be a day of celebration became a nightmare,_" said Hank McCoy. The mustachioed reporter held his microphone in one hand as he stood before the ruins littering the street outside Titans Compound. In his other arm sat Melvin, who clung to Hank for all she was worth. A squashed teddy bear poked its head out between them.

"_A malicious gang calling themselves the 'Teen Tyrants' arrived on-scene, trapping those present and attacking without provocation or intent. Sixteen are dead in the wake of this tragedy, with dozens more injured._"

Jinx slid the small, battery-powered television set off the end of the warped counter, letting it smash onto Ops' cracked floor. Her lips curled with disgust as she kicked the pieces of the television at the object of her frustration. "That was a complete waste," she said.

"And that was our only TV, bitch!" Gizmo complained. "Not that you're wrong, but now what am I supposed to watch?"

The rest of the Tyrants surrounded Ravager, who appeared underwhelmed by the show of annoyed force. He bowed his head out of his helmet and tucked it under his arm. An irritated expression revealed itself behind the faceplate. "Was I the only one watching that report?" he asked, and sighed.

Shimmer swept her coppery crop from her eyes, unveiling a scowl that made the air quake. "Look, I like pointless violence as much as the next sociopath, but today was a total wank. The Titans' new pad is still there. We didn't even kill one of them, just a couple of nobodies."

Impatient breath whistled through Ravager's nose. "Dead heroes breed martyrs. Dead innocents breed panic. We took something just as valuable from the Titans as their base. We stole their moment."

Mammoth clutched his rumbling stomach. His foot throbbed inside his boot. He loathed the thought of pulling it out and seeing how much of it remained. "Yeah? Can you spend a moment? Is it gonna buy food?"

"Or parts to fix this dump up?" added Gizmo.

Jinx stepped forward, glaring. She jabbed her finger into his armored chest. The gesture made him smirk, fanning her ire into full flame. "We all went out on a limb for you on this scheme. We moved into this crap heap because you said you had a real plan. You said we were going to the city. 'Tyrants,' right? Well, I'm not going to squat in the Titans' hand-me-downs so you can steal their 'moments.' I'm out."

Ravager just smiled. He tilted his head, and said, "There's the door."

Disgusted, most of all with herself, Jinx led the march toward Ops' doors. They were stuck halfway in their sockets, leaving just enough room to slip through. Because they would not close, Jinx saw the figure in red approach the door from the other side.

He blocked the opening and knocked on the metal leaf of the door. "'Scuse me, ma'am. I'm looking for a 'Ravager' fellah. Said he'd consider me for his team. Do I got the right 'T,' or is he in the giant letter down the block?" he asked with a smile.

Jinx sneered and tossed her thumb over her shoulder. "You want the dork in the armor back there."

"Hope you like living out of a box," Shimmer scoffed.

The boy all in red grinned. "Actually, I brought my stuff over already. Hope y'all don't mind. I brought enough to share." He looked back into the hallway and whistled. "Hey, Billys! Move it on up, huh?"

Two more boys identical to the first, right down to the division symbol painted on their chests, appeared from the hall to yank the stuck doors open. Jinx and the others had to jump out of the way as a parade of duplicates poured into Ops. Each one carried something different. Boxes, bags, sacks, jewelry, gold, food, food, boxes, furniture, and boxes of food came through the door atop a never-ending stream of the boys.

The first boy watched his duplicates pile their bounty into Ops. He squeezed past the stunned Tyrants to join Ravager, who observed the parade through an expression of insufferable smugness. "Mister Ravager, sir, I hope y'all like this. Just think of it as my way of saying, 'I saw the whuppin' you gave the Titans, and I want in,'" the boy said.

Ravager clapped the boy's shoulder. "Mister Numerous, I like your style. And your résumé. Welcome aboard."

The other Tyrants trailed back to Ravager through the Billy stream. Jinx's cheeks flushed pink as she softly squeaked, "I, uh, don't suppose 'I'm Sorry' sex would make up for all that stuff I said."

Mammoth's mouth watered as he watched a pair of Billys bring in an entire side of cured beef. His stomach rumbled harder. "Hell," he said, "I might take that hit if it means I get to eat that."

"Not necessary. From either of you. Not that I'd refuse," he added to Jinx, giving her a hungry look that made her smile. "But I don't expect you to follow me blindly. You deserve results. Hopefully, this will just be the appetizer."

The growing pile of pilfered electronics made Gizmo's unblinking lenses glisten. "Holy hard drive! With this much stuff, I can actually get this place running again. Better than that half-bot ever could!"

"Leave the exterior alone. We don't want to advertise our location. Yet. But otherwise," said Ravager, gesturing around them with a bright smile, "let's get to work. We have a home to fix, and a city to enslave."

**To Be Continued**

* * *

Sorry for the delay, everyone. It's just been that kind of week. There'll be another week's space between here and the next chapter, which is due to be a one-shot. Until then, Titan-scribes, keep reading, because the best is yet to come!


	12. Tests

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Tests**

The crisp mountain air scoured his lungs with a deep breath. Snow chased the wisps of steam escaping his mouth. The white flakes spun around him before settling onto the rough, pale burlap of his clothes, where they were gathering into a cold coat. Wind chased the coat from his body in a spray of white and ruffled the short crop of dark hair hanging in his eyes. The wind carried the snow high into the air, where it danced across the sprawling mountain range, sparkling in the dawn.

He pushed the world from his thoughts. Sitting atop folded legs, he concentrated inward, away from the cold, thin air, and the ache throughout his body. As his eyes closed, he slipped into a dreamless peace. Nothingness churned around him, cushioning his descent. He felt nothing. He was nothing.

Deeper he went, into himself. It used to be harder. Months ago it had taken longer, with more effort, to find stillness inside of him. That wasn't the challenge anymore. The challenge came when he delved too deep, and found what lay beneath the stillness.

"Urchin! Get out here, you filthy pig!" The voice of his master pierced his stillness with shrill Mandarin. His body returned to him in a chill. He surfaced from his peace and blinked his glacial blue eyes open.

At the root of the outcropping upon which he sat, his master jumped and hammered her walking stick against the rock. The bowler hat she wore bounced on her iron gray hair, which she had pulled into her customary braids. The hem of her simple dress fluttered in the cold wind, which never seemed to bother her. Or perhaps it explained her sterling disposition.

"Get up, urchin!" the True Master spat. "You have sweeping to do. The yard is filthy. There is snow everywhere! Why do you sit there, sleeping, when my yard is not swept?"

He stood without his hands, rising in one smooth motion that turned him to face the Master. His first day, when he had used his hand to stand up, the Master had jabbed her stick into his hand, pinning it under all her weight. He had learned quickly how to stand properly.

"Yes, Master. I was meditating. I will do my chores now," he replied in flawless Mandarin.

As his bare feet padded across the rock to join her on the path, the Master scathed him with a contemptuous look. "Meditation. Feh! Mediation is wasted on an urchin like you. You seek enlightenment? I will enlighten you. You are white garbage, flown across the ocean to litter the True Master's house."

He followed the switchback path down the ridge. Along the way, he listened attentively to the Master's furious rant regarding his parentage and shortcomings. He listened well, for he had learned that each one of the Master's words were gifts, and if his ears did not care to receive such gifts, they would receive rocks and slaps of her stick instead.

The temple came into sight after a few minutes of walking and listening. It was a small hut of stone nestled between ridges in the mountain range. A yard made of large tiles sat before the temple, with a smattering of stubborn trees surrounding it.

Traces of leaves and snow lay on the tiles, to which the Master harrumphed and jabbed her stick. While he retrieved the broom from the temple, the Master waited at the edge of the yard, glowering silently. He lowered his head from her glare.

The instant he touched the bristles to the stone tile, he caught a flash of movement at the edge of his vision. His hand snatched the Master's stick from the air mere inches before its tip struck his forehead.

The True Master's expression softened for a split second. "Acceptable. For worthless filth. Now give me back the stick you stole, and sweep. You have other chores to finish."

He circled the yard and returned the Master's walking stick with a short bow. Then he began to sweep the yard clean. The broom was old, forcing him to go over each spot three or four times before it cleared the detritus. Weeks ago, he had offered to make the Master a new broom. She had made him sweep with his feet as punishment for his wastefulness.

The Master paused halfway to the temple. She looked back, straightening her bowler hat. "Urchin," she snapped. He stopped at once, and listened. "You will be tested tonight. Sunset."

His innards clenched. In all the time he had trained with her, the True Master had never spoken of a test. Each day had been training without end, sometimes lasting into the night, sometimes even through to the next day. His limits had been pushed, broken, and expanded. If that had been nothing noteworthy to the Master, what kind of test would she put him through?

He made his face into a mask. "Yes, Master."

She sniffed loudly and turned. "Feh. Silence your garbage tongue. You speak like a Bangkok prostitute." She disappeared into the temple, leaving him to stare at the tile in lost thought. "I don't hear sweeping," she bellowed from inside.

* * *

Beast Boy sat up with a languid stretch. His yawn unhinged his jaw and bathed his bed in morning breath. He blinked, scratched, and greeted the day with a grumble. Then he froze.

The sheets of his king-sized bed had been shredded into confetti strips. He saw his bare legs shifting through the mess. Sharp talons poked through from the ends of his feet where his toes should have been. Startled, he tried to scramble back, and felt his fingertips plunge into the mattress. He tore his hand free to examine the curved claws capping his fingertips.

He stared at his fingers. They wriggled, making the scraps of sheet impaled on his claws flutter. His hands felt perfectly normal, and moved when he told them to, yet he was sure he wasn't supposed to have claws. Not in this form.

He jumped out of bed, trailing a tangle of sheet strips. The last of his sleepiness fled in a rush of confusion. He stared at his hands, trying to morph his fingers into what they should be, but they refused.

That's when the city slammed into his ears. Beast Boy gasped as a jumbled clamor filled his head from either side. His eyes watered at the complexity of the noise. He staggered to the bay window opposite his bed, wondering how the world outside could be so loud without breaking itself.

Cars rumbled past the Compound, their tires crunching and squealing, their engines exploding with each pump of each piston. Pedestrians passed on the sidewalk with a staccato flood of footsteps. Birds for miles and miles around sang songs that blended together into a high-pitched screech. Construction blared from three different directions with jackhammers, cranes, picks, shovels, and people, people, people! People, with their walking, their thumping hearts, their rushing blood, their unbearable voices all rising up together!

Beast Boy clapped his ears and staggered back from the window. Tears squeezed out of his clutched eyes. He fell onto his knees and screamed with the din.

When his voice finally gave out, he staggered across the room and threw himself into a uniform, uncapping his ears only when he needed to. His talons bunched painfully in the toes of his boots. His claws sliced through their shoestrings, so he left them untied. Stumbling, he swept the shredded bedding together and stuffed it in his unused laundry bag.

Beast Boy lurched out of the door with the bag in tow. When his door hissed shut behind him, the clamor dimmed only a little. He could hear it in the back of his head, like a constant soundtrack of nonsense. But more prevalent now were the sounds of the Compound: rattling air conditioning, the hum of the power core, and four sets of footsteps, one of which turned the corner to enter the Habitation Wing.

Beast Boy squeaked and shrank behind his laundry bag as Raven walked into the hallway. Each of her footsteps against the soft carpet sounded as clearly as if his ear was pressed to the floor. He gritted his teeth and smiled as hard as he could.

Raven regarded him quizzically. "Garfield," she greeted him with a nod. Her gaze dipped to his bulging laundry bag.

He sucked in a breath to speak. The air nearly flattened him with the sheer number of scents it carried. Standing just four feet away from her, Beast Boy could smell everything about Raven: her lavender body wash, her shampoo, the sweat in her boots, her lotion, deodorant, and even the salty saline in her curious eyes. There were other scents about her, distinct fragrances he couldn't identify because he had never noticed them before.

Trying not to breathe, Beast Boy said, "Morning!"

"It was, an hour and a half ago," said Raven. "What's with the bag? Did you finally notice the smell of your own clothes?"

The smell of the compound seeped around her, overloading his nose. Dizzy, he replied, "Bedding."

Raven frowned. "Your bedding?"

_Don't tell her the truth, you fool_, his mind screamed. _Don't let her see your hands! If you keep this quiet, you can get this under control before anyone notices!_

"S'ruined," he muttered, and dug his claws into the sides of the bag before she saw them.

Sweat beaded on his brow beneath her scrutiny. She stepped closer, chasing Beast Boy back against his door with her overwhelming scent. Her steady heartbeat thudded in his ears, making his heartbeat sound furious by comparison. "Are you okay?" she asked.

_Lie to her! Don't let her know you're a freak! Just come up with something clever._

"I wet the bed."

_…oh, you are just all kinds of stupid. You're on your own._

Raven's gaze lingered, studying his nervous face. Then she stepped back and settled her cloak over her body. "I'm going to leave before this gets more socially awkward. Let's pretend we didn't say anything after the standard pleasantries."

He stumbled past Raven with a nod. Raven walked slowly down the hall, listening for him with her earthly and ethereal ears. When his footsteps and nervousness faded away, she unfurled the stale air clutched in her throat. She didn't have time to wonder about the panic she had sensed in Beast Boy. The panic building inside of her consumed her attention.

She slipped into her room and shut the door. Pressing her ear to the metal, stretching her empathic senses, she made doubly sure that no one was within earshot. Cyborg had promised that their rooms were soundproofed, but one could never be too careful.

Raven drew her communicator and thumbed it into cellular mode. There was only one number in its memory, which she selected and called as she brought the communicator to her ear. Her heartbeat raced faster with each ring.

Her whole body jolted at the sound of the voice on the other end. "Hi," she said. "Sorry, I… I'm fine, thank you. Um, how are you? Sorry I missed your call last night. I was fighting an alien intelligence that had infested and animated about three miles' worth of municipal pipe into a warship. Yes, really. I don't know, it didn't come up. Cyborg called it the 'Sewer Saucer,' but… Well, I suppose it is a little funny."

The timpani in her chest slowed down. She paced her room, which was shadowed with thick drapes and decorated with tapestries. Already, her bookshelves were overflowing. Stacks of books sat on the floor and at the foot of her bed. She tiptoed around them to plop down atop her comforter.

"No reason, really," she answered. "I just wanted to call and say that I had a really nice time. No, not the sewer alien. Coffee. With you." A tiny smile split her lips. "It was fun. Actually, I was hoping you were free to do it again today. This afterno—"

She listened. Her smile slackened. "No, I understand. Work is impor—"

She listened again. "Dinner? Tonight? I don't… No, vegetarian sounds fine, but… No. I mean, yes. I'd love to. I mean, I would like… That sounds nice. Seven o'clock. No, I know the place. I'll meet you there. See you then. Goodbye."

Raven hung up and closed her communicator. She lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, with her feet on her pillows and her head next to a stack of unread Petrarch. The conversation replayed in her head, and when it reached the part where she agreed to have dinner with Dominic, her in-chest timpani began a beat that rattled her to her core.

"…what just happened?" she asked herself.

* * *

One floor below, Cyborg sat at the counter of the kitchen unit in the Commons. The kitchen possessed eight stove tops, two ovens, three refrigerators, its own deep fryer, and an overhead pantry stocked with enough food to feed a platoon, or in a pinch, five teenagers. And in spite of all that, he crunched down a lunch of toaster pastries and cold cereal.

The Commons had been designed in the spirit of the old Tower's Ops, but without the functionality of a command center. A television screen dominated the far wall, surrounded by couches and chairs. A pool table, foosball table, ping pong table, and air hockey table were lined up across the floor. The kitchen was cordoned behind an island counter, where Cyborg ate. One long wall of the Commons was floor-to ceiling windows with a door leading to a cement patio. Outside laid the grounds, with a hedge row separating them from the sidewalk.

Cyborg ate hurriedly next to a packet of papers. He tried not to spill milk on the city's seal as he flipped through the pages, reading at super-computer speed. Every fourth page or so he would pause and sign a line on the page with his finger-pen. A wobbly line crossed his cheek from when he had forgotten to retract the pen for a bite of pastry.

"Hey, Vic?" Tek's voice preceded her from outside the hallway door. She walked in, dressed in tight shorts and a sleeveless shirt with a faded Superman shield on the front. "Oh, there you are. C'mon, let's go," she said.

"Mmm?" Cyborg looked up from his cereal, spoon stuck in his mouth. He swallowed, and groaned. "Aw, no. I forgot."

Tek dropped her shoulders with a pained sigh. "Seriously? You said you'd work out with me after I got back from hypnotherapy. Listening to Professor Hayden drone on, and on, and on… I need to blow off some serious steam, and you promised to blow with me. I mean…." She blushed, and said, "You know what I mean. So let's go."

Cyborg sighed. "I know. I suck. But there's too much that needs to get done. In return for not suing us for property damage, the city wants us to sign off on these reports, which are about a thousand pages long each. Then I have to do a system check on all the little bugs still cropping up in the new systems. The Detention Center countermeasures need to be checked out before we have to put someone in there. The lawnmower robot I built yesterday almost ate someone's Pomeranian, so I need to debug its recognition software and send a gift basket of Milk-Bones. The—"

"So what I'm hearing is, you're busy," Tek said dejectedly.

"Hey, I'm not exactly having a ball here," he said. "I haven't gotten to the gym in over a week.

Annoyed, Tek drifted back out the door. "That's fine. It's not like you need to exercise, right? I'll just go by myself," she said over her shoulder.

Grumbling, Cyborg turned back to his lunch. His cereal had become soggy, and the pastries, cold. He pushed them aside to put his full attention into the city report. If he read fast enough, he might still have time to spot-check the grounds' sensor network, which had driven the Alert system insane by interpreting squirrels as potential threats.

"Hey, dude," Beast Boy said, popping his head in the Commons door. "Been looking for you."

"You found me," Cyborg said more snappishly than he meant.

The shapeshifter wandered in. A haggard expression hung in his face. "Yeah, I…hey, Pop Tarts!" He sniffed the air, and then shook his head. "Oh, wait. Those are the off-brand knockoffs."

Cyborg continued signing and flipping the report. "Budget's a budget, dude. If you want a supersonic jet, you gotta be willing to eat Pöp Tortes."

"Pshh, long as they're vegan. You gonna…?"

"Huh? Yeah, whatever."

Beast Boy reached across Cyborg's vision to collect the pastries. As his hand crossed the report, Cyborg scowled in annoyance. But then he noticed the woolen mitten covering Beast Boy's hand. "Uh, Gar? What's with the winter gear?"

"Huh?" Beast Boy turned his hand over. "Oh. Right. Well, y'know, I was thinking of going outside later, and it might be cold out. Be prepared."

"It's seventy degrees outside," said Cyborg.

"It'll snap back super-quick. I've got a, uh, nose for this kind of thing." Beast Boy sandwiched the pastries together and bit through both. He chewed twice before reeling back. Coughing, he spat the mouthful into his mitten. "Oh, dude!" he cried.

Cyborg glanced up as Beast Boy threw the pastries away. The revulsion on Beast Boy's face surprised him. He had never known the shapeshifter to turn down any food that had never possessed a face. "They aren't that bad," he said.

After gagging and retching, Beast Boy found his voice again. "Ugh. So, listen, Vic, I was wondering…you wanna do something today? The city's not imploding. We could do some gameage, or watch a DVD?"

An impatient sigh ruffled Cyborg's report. "I can't, Gar. I've got way too much to do today."

Beast Boy tussled his hair with his mittens, making the green mess stand on end with static. "Dude, please? I really just need someone to chill with around here today. I've been…feeling really crappy, and…"

Cyborg growled and stabbed the packet with his pen-finger. "Gar, I can't, okay?" he snapped. "There's too much to do. I don't have time to goof around."

He couldn't bring himself to look up from the packet as Beast Boy backed away. Even so, the wince on Beast Boy's face was palpable. The shapeshifter rubbed his ears and backed away. "Sorry. I'm…yeah, I'll just, uh, leave you to it," he murmured, and slinked out of the Commons.

The empty room echoed Cyborg's stern voice back at him. He closed his eye and groaned. Beast Boy didn't deserve the brunt of his frustration. Cyborg turned on his stool, ready to apologize. But Beast Boy was long gone. "Damn it," he muttered.

He clicked his pen back out of his finger and scratched his name in another space on the report when the refrigerator door became impossibly dark. Raven emerged from the darkness in a puff of cold and a swirl of cloak. She stopped herself against the counter opposite Cyborg while her portal dissipated.

"Victor, I need your help," she said breathlessly.

"Of course you do," Cyborg said, rolling his eye.

"I need you to do a full medical workup on me," she said. "Start with a cerebral scan for biochemical abnormalities. There could be some kind of toxin in me designed to impair judgment, or make me susceptible to suggestion. We should also scan for traces of residual neuro-electro energy consistent with mind control effects."

"…what?"

"And blood workups," she continued, pacing the kitchen floor. "Someone could have implanted me with nanites, like before, only these would—"

"Raven," Cyborg shot, stopping her in her tracks. "Is there a reason you think you're being mind controlled? Or is this just ordinary paranoia?"

She glanced around to ensure that they were alone. Then, with ample hesitation, she said, "I have a date."

Cyborg finished signing the page he was on. Then, calmly, he retracted his pen and tapped his arm, bringing up a complex display in hologram. Glowing diagnostics flashed in silence while Raven stared at him expectantly.

"Did you hear me?" she demanded.

He continued reading the holographic display. "I don't know yet. I'm checking my aural subroutines for whatever error that made it sound like you said—"

"I have a date. Tonight."

"See, there it goes again. And I'm not due for a full diagnostic until—"

Raven slammed her palms against the counter, rattling his abandoned cereal. Her face puckered. "This isn't funny, Cyborg. I'm serious. Something is wrong with me." The lights above her flickered out with a pop as their bulbs burst. Cabinet doors rattled behind her, threatening to fly off their hinges. Cyborg's cereal rippled as if caught in an earthquake.

The diagnostic hologram above his arm faded, and Cyborg lifted his hands. "Okay, okay, easy! Calm down before you renovate the kitchen." He waited while she stilled herself and the possessed surroundings. Never before had he seen Raven fight so hard to keep calm. Once the tremors ceased, he said, "Okay. Now, let's try this again without any Exorcist stuff. You have a…date? And you want a brain scan?"

Her ashen hands curled into fists against the countertop. Her voice grew strained. "Something has affected my judgment. Dominic asked me to dinner."

Cyborg waited for her to say more. All he heard was her restrained hyperventilation. "Is that all?" he asked.

"I said yes."

He relaxed with a grin. "I guessed that," he said. "So what's wrong?"

Her subsiding fluster withered further, until she withdrew into her cloak, cocooning herself in the blue fabric. "What's wrong is me. I don't know why I said yes. I should have said no. I never should have called him."

Cyborg's smile broadened. "Why?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Raven's gaze drifted downward. "Because I don't do things like that. This. I don't talk to people. I have a healthy, mutual disregard for people. Something must be wrong with me, or I wouldn't have agreed to something this stupid," she said, speaking more to herself than to Cyborg.

"Something is really wrong with you," Cyborg agreed in an undertone. He stood and tucked the thick report under his arm. With his free hand, he patted Raven on the shoulder, and said, "Go out to dinner."

She reeled back as if struck. "What?"

"This is your chance to do something with someone that doesn't involve daring heroics and explosions. Let me tell you, people like us don't get a lot of that. Go out to dinner," he said as he dumped his cereal down the garbage disposal.

"But—!"

"You want something to be wrong because then you won't have to deal with the fact that somebody likes you. He _likes_ you. You like _him_. It isn't mind control, it's hormones. So wear something nice, put your freak-out in a lock box, and Go. Out. To. Dinner," he said over his shoulder as he walked out of the Commons.

Raven blinked at the empty doorway. She called after him, "You're going to be sorry when I come back after dessert to enslave you all at the behest of my dark new master."

"Have fun," she heard him call back.

She collapsed onto the counter atop her elbows. Staring at the countertop, she considered Cyborg's advice. She didn't feel any external presence controlling her. But then, would she?

The only thing coloring her thoughts was the small kernel of excitement she felt when she thought of Dominic. The idea that such excitement came from her alone frightened her more than any mind control ever could.

* * *

He flowed across the yard with gymnastic grace born from endless repetition. Spring. Flip. Kick. Spring. Flip. Kick. He performed the routine as he had for the past hour, beginning again as soon as his feet touched down on the cold tile. Switching feet, he tumbled and kicked until he reached the end of the yard, where he turned and started again.

Each time, he felt some tiny imperfection in his form. His kick extended too far. His spring was too slow. He didn't tuck enough on his flip. His mistakes were nigh-imperceptible. Before training with the True Master, he might never have noticed them. Now he could hardly walk without thinking about how he moved.

"Enough!" The Master appeared at the edge of the yard, rapping the tile with her stick. For as long as he had been at the temple, he had always heard the Master before seeing her. She shook her stick and said, "You are making me sick with your clumsy tumbling. Oxen move with more grace."

She strode out into the yard as he landed. He bowed deeply, rising when she drew near. He had only made the mistake of remaining bowed in her presence once. Her foot had taught him quickly to spare no one—ally, enemy, or master—even a second to act against him.

The Master circled him, appraising him through a disapproving expression. She ended in front of him with a shake of her head. "Shameful. Absolutely shameful," she said, her Mandarin steeped with disgust.

He bowed again, and said, "I am sorry, Master."

"The failure is not yours, urchin. When you came to my doorstep, a worthless product of filth and laziness, I was sure that I could do something. Such a Master as I should be able to bring shape to even a fat, white, ugly piece of clay such as you. But I can see that I have failed. You are as worthless now as you were then. As you have always been."

"Yes, Master."

Her wizen face crinkled. "It disgusts me to hear you speak. You stumble through my language as you do my teachings, like a drunken ape. Speak no more!"

She tossed her stick aside. The simple gesture buried the tip of the stick in a tree well away from the edge of the yard. It quivered and stilled, knocking snow loose from the branches above it.

The Master slid her feet into a stance with the comfort and ease that came after a lifetime of doing so. Her hands spread with her stance. "Fight," she said.

He was struck dumb as the Master glared expectantly at him. She stood statuesque until he lifted his hands in response. With measured steps, they began to circle one another, their balances poised, their eyes unmoving.

The Master jumped without any consideration for gravity. She hung in the air, punching and kicking, and then settled back to the ground almost as an afterthought. Her blows were just slow enough for him to block, and rattled him down to his bones.

"Why do you waste your Master's time, urchin?" she asked caustically between blows. "You came here alone, without a history, or a family, or even a name to call your own. You offered nothing as tribute."

"I offered my life, Master," he replied. "I do not have anything else."

His blows did nothing to harry her. She brushed them aside with ease. "Feh. Your life. What use does a Master have for trinkets? And what need do you have for a Master? You are an urchin, loved by none, wanted by none. I could smell it about you from the moment you set foot on my mountain. Why are you here?"

He poured himself into his attack, moving faster. The Master rose to his efforts without concern. "I came to learn," he said.

"Your people do not learn for the sake of learning. You hunt and peck for knowledge to suck it dry of use. You study so that you may empty the land and ocean. You learn this art, my art, so you may kill your neighbor and take what is his. Should I teach you only to have you kill me, urchin?" she asked.

"I wish only to study with the True Master," he said.

"To what end, urchin?" she demanded, punctuating her question with a punch. "Why travel to the ends of the earth? What do you seek?"

"Nothing, Master."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you alive?"

He halted his fist halfway to her face. The Master had folded her hands, dropping her defense entirely. She gazed up at him with a sly expression that made his arm drop. "What are you, that wants nothing and seeks nothing? Can you answer that, urchin?"

Impact hammered his chest. The world spun around him. He sailed back off of a blow he never saw coming. He landed in the snow outside of the yard, skidding to a stop against the tree in which the Master had thrown her stick.

The Master hobbled back toward the temple, calling, "Come inside and eat something. And bring me my stick. You are a heartless, diseased goat for making an old woman like me fight out in the cold without my walking stick."

He sat up, gingerly testing the enormous bruise his chest had become. His head bumped the stick planted in the trunk behind him. "Yes, Master," he called.

* * *

Beast Boy grunted and tossed his controller at the screen, which mocked him with the words 'Game Over.' The plastic controller bounced off the screen and clattered onto the Mainframe console. He glared at the screen, crossing his arms over his chest, and kicked the console's base. All around him, the Western seaboard's second most powerful computer worked to reboot his game back to the start screen.

His mittens slid around the controller. It was impossible to do anything with the hot, itchy, uncomfortable fabric wrapping his fingers, but he refused to look at his hands until they changed back. He wriggled his mitts over as many buttons as he could, and perched his over-plushed thumbs atop the analog sticks.

The Mainframe hummed all around him, its every sound clear as a bell in his ears. He could hear every cooling fan, the liquid nitrogen rushing through tubes, the spark inside every capacitor. The room smelled like an antiseptic garage, like a thousand plastics blended together. But it was the most insulated room in the Compound, and it protected him somewhat from the overwhelming smells and sounds outside.

The doors swished open. Raven passed through the sterilizer field, her hair expanding with static volume for a second. It settled as she swept inside. She kept her cloak closed as she approached Beast Boy's chair from behind. "There you are. What are you doing in here?" she asked briskly.

Her combination of scents stormed his nose. The hundred different sounds of her body—joints creaking, tendons stretching, breath rasping, heart thumping—swamped his ears. It overwhelmed him. He shut his eyes and clutched his controller, trying to distract himself from the sensory mess. "Just gaming," he said in a tight voice.

She glanced past him at the video game reloading on the screen. "Good to know all our processing power is being put to good use. Get up. I need your help," she told him. "We're going shopping."

Just the thought of going outside made Beast Boy's stomach roll. He hunched over and grunted, "I'm really not up for—"

"Tough. As hard as it is to believe, you have experience with something I don't, and I need your advice." Raven tilted her head to one side, and added, "That actually sounds even crazier out loud. But come on. I'll buy you a…veggie burger, or something. Let's go."

Her voice rose above the cacophony of her body. Beast Boy clenched his jaw so hard his teeth creaked. Keeping his back to Raven, he said, "No, Raven. I…can't go out today."

Raven stepped forward. As her voice softened, so too did the undercurrent in her scent. "Garfield, I'm serious. I really need your help. I'm sorry if you aren't feeling well, but it won't take long. I hope. And…I was…" Her voice and scent warmed with embarrassment. He could feel the heat of her body pushing against the hairs on his neck in the stale, sterile air. "You're the only one here who's ever actually been out on a—"

The noise, the smell, and the heat of her body pushed his senses over the edge. He clutched his head and snapped, "No! Go away!"

She pulled back as though burned. Slowly, she stepped back toward the door, triggering it with her presence. She plunged annoyance into every overactive sense Beast Boy had. "Fine," she said flatly. "I should have known better than to interrupt your important video game."

As the door swished shut, she caught its edge, keeping it open a moment more. "You know," she said, "it's amazing, isn't it? You traipse through my mind, pester me nonstop, and even lean on me when you're feeling down. But the one time I actually need you, you can't be bothered to even get up from your chair. Such a true friend you are, Beast Boy."

She let the door close and walked off. She never saw the game controller explode into plastic shards between his shredding mittens.

Raven tromped along the circumference of Sector Prime. Her eyes skimmed the carpeting, weighty with self-recrimination. Beast Boy obviously hadn't been feeling well. She shouldn't have pushed the issue, and she certainly shouldn't have taken her own insecurities out on him.

The petty part of Raven reminded her that everything she had said had been absolutely true. If Beast Boy couldn't be bothered to help, then he was welcome to stew in the aftermath of her tongue lashing. It made them even in her colored eyes.

But that still left the problem of what to do about tonight. Raven had torn her closet apart only to discover that she knew nothing about dressing like an attractive girl. She didn't even own the clothes for it. She needed the opinion of someone who knew how to be normal, which was in short supply around the Compound.

Her wanderings carried her around the upper level and to the Ops balcony at the far side. There, she found Bushido on monitor duty, seated at the central console and diligently watching the Alert map. Raven stood at the edge of Ops, watching him work in silence. He did not look up from his duties until he heard her soft sigh.

"Good afternoon, Raven," Bushido said cheerfully. Upon glimpsing her, he turned to look fully, curiosity steeping his angular face. "You appear distressed. Is something wrong?"

Raven steeled herself with a silent curse for her lack of options. "Bushido…" she began.

It was then that Raven noticed the echoing clank of metal on metal. She glanced over the edge of Ops' railing, down to the sprawling floor of Sector Prime. The extensive holo-projectors had created a small gym of weight machines and treadmills on the floor. Two figures, one blonde, one brunette, pumped the proverbial iron, creating the racket.

Raven glanced back at the expectant Bushido as she strode to the railing. "You're a jerk, and we all hate you," she told him.

As Raven stepped off the balcony edge, Bushido shrugged, and returned to his console. "Ah. No problems, then. Very good," he said to no one.

Raven floated three stories down to the floor. Her toes touched at the edge of the gym before they vanished beneath her settling cloak. She strode between two treadmills, and said, "Tek?"

Tek sat behind the grips of an incline press. Her ropy muscle strained against the machine, while the light touch of her blonde trainer encouraged another rep. Sweat dribbled from her chin as she let the grips settle back upon seeing Raven.

"Come on, two more!" the bubbly Sarah simulant training her exclaimed. She wore—or rather, featured—a spandex workout two piece that exemplified her impossible holographic curves. Raven made a mental note to give Cyborg a hard time about it later.

At Ravens' stare, Tek glanced at the Sarah helping her. Her expression soured. "Oh. Her. Yeah, I know it's lame, but Vic bailed on me, and I needed a spotter. I tried to get the computer to make her fat, but her boobs just got bigger." She unconsciously crossed her arms over her chest. Looking closer, she saw the sorceress's strained features, and rose from the machine. "Is everything okay? Something's not okay. What's wrong?"

Raven bit her lip.

* * *

"That one. Definitely," Tek said. "I mean, if you like it."

Raven turned in a circle, feeling foolish for trying to see her own backside. After an hour of searching through racks upon racks of clothes, she didn't trust mirrors anymore. Mirrors made everything look too big or small or saggy or lumpy. She was tempted to leave her body and see how the pleated blue skirt looked on her. Tek would probably have a psychotic meltdown if she saw Raven crumple lifelessly to the floor. The girl looked flustered just being in the private fitting room with Raven.

Tek watched Raven swish the short skirt to and fro uncertainly. Her face plunged into distress. "You hate it, don't you? I'm sorry. I really suck at this," said Tek, slumping back into her chair.

Her anxiety pressed upon Raven's, adding to the sorceress's empathic woes. Raven blew an impatient breath and said, "I don't hate it. I'm just…not sure. I'm not used to the idea of my underwear being exposed to open air. Plus, it makes my hips look…wide," she added in a mutter.

Tek rose from her seat to join Raven in front of the trio of mirrors that vexed her so. Together, they examined the skirt and tank top troubling Raven. Raven crossed her arms to cover the exposed gray skin she normally kept under her vestments.

"Your hips look totally great in that," Tek said. Looking down at her own jeans and T-shirt, she added, "I would kill for your figure. Uh, not literally, I mean. And it's not like I think you're hot. I mean, I do, but in a…abstract way?"

"Um, thanks," Raven uttered.

Burning with blush, Tek backed away and flopped in her chair. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I really do suck at this." Burying her face in her hands, she said, "I wish Kory were here. She knew how to do this stuff better than anybody."

Raven wandered from the mirror, her arms still crossed. She studied the walls, which were plastered with advertisements for clothes of every kind, and featured women whose stunning beauty had to be the product of airbrushing and torturous diets. "To be honest, so do I," she admitted. "But I appreciate you doing this with me. I figure between the both of us, we can produce something akin to a real outfit."

When Tek said nothing, Raven looked down and sighed. "I don't like the skirt. It's short, and it's breezy, and it's swishy. Which probably means it's perfect. You swear it looks good?"

Tek looked up from her hands. An almost-smile poked through her blush. "Super-swear," she said.

Nodding dejectedly, Raven returned to the mirrors. She uncrossed her arms and swiveled, examining the black tank top that hugged her chest and neglected her midriff. "This won't work. I want him to have dinner with me, not my cleavage. Why was this even in the pile?"

Tek flew from her seat to the other chair, which was buried beneath a mountain of clothes on hangars. "Sorry," she stammered. "I just figured since you…I mean, I wish I could wear a top like that."

"Stop saying things like that," Raven snapped.

"Sorry," winced Tek.

"And stop apologizing. Why do you keep acting like I'm going to bite your head off?"

Cowering behind the pile of clothes, Tek mewled, "Well, you're really scowly right now. And also, the last time we really talked, you called me a threat to myself and everybody else."

Raven's gaze sank to her feet. "Oh. Right," she said.

Both girls studied the carpet with mutual, uneasy silence. Tek busied her hands in the clothes pile, wishing for anything to break the spell between them. Her mouth granted her wish when it blurted, "Why this guy?"

Raven looked up with a start. "What?"

Realizing she had spoken, Tek clapped her hand over her mouth. But the damage had been done. Beneath Raven's piercing curiosity, she released her lips, and stammered, "It's just that, with all of us, you act like you don't care. You're just yourself. Which is fine! But…with this guy, you're putting all this effort into looking nice, and you're nervous. What makes this guy different?"

Tek's stammering observation punched Raven in the stomach. She looked to the mirror, examining the funhouse version of herself she saw reflected. "I don't know. I hate it."

"You hate…him?" Tek asked, her voice wavering.

"No. I don't hate him, and that's the problem. I've spent my entire life alone, learning to deal with feelings and…urges. Now some stranger's come along and shattered that. He makes me feel like someone else entirely, and that scares me. Like I'm losing myself."

Softly, Tek said, "Maybe you're just changing. Is that so bad?"

Raven pondered the question, lost in the eyes of the cute almost-girl in the mirror. "…no. But it's terrifying," she decided.

They lapsed back into silence for a moment longer. Tek again plumbed Raven's selections to ease the tension. She drew out a collared shirt, and said, "How about this? It's black, and it has sleeves. You like that, right? And the V-neck is a nice compromise. He won't drown in cleavage, and you won't look like you're at a meeting."

Raven took the shirt and held it to her chest. The black and blue of the outfit comforted her, and complimented her complexion. "It's perfect. Thank you," she said.

"Hey, try long enough, and you're bound to get something right," Tek said with a shrug.

Raven ended Tek's self-depreciating chuckle with a look of genuine gratitude. "Thank you," she repeated softly.

Tek blushed with a sheepish smile. "You're welcome," she said. As Raven peeled off her tank top, Tek asked, "Do you mind if we stop somewhere on the way back to the Compound? I wanna stop by Major Cluck's Chicken Bunker for a bucket of Barbecued Blitzwings."

A look of disgust appeared as Raven pulled the stretchy top over her face and off her head. "What could you possibly want with three pounds of chicken gristle?" she asked.

"They're not for me. They're for Vic. And a couple for me," she added furtively. "He's been so busy lately, I think he keeps forgetting to eat, which is majorly serious for him."

As Raven wriggled into her vestments, she gave Tek a confused look. "Wait. I thought Victor blew you off today. Weren't you mad at him?"

Tek shrugged. "Sure, I guess. But I was pretty snarky, so I feel a little bad. Plus, even if I didn't, I'd still wanna do something nice for him. Right?"

"I don't know. When I'm upset with someone, I usually don't do nice things for them. I just empathically rewire their brain so they can't feel happiness anymore." Raven finished pinning her cloak in place, and then noticed Tek's horrified look. Embarrassed, Raven said, "That was a joke. But really, why do something nice for him when he does something that annoys you?"

With another shrug, Tek said, "I dunno. I guess I understand how busy he is. My therapist says that a good way of feeling better about myself is to do nice things for other people. Besides, if you needed somebody to take care of you, wouldn't it be nice if you didn't have to ask?"

Raven replied with a blank stare. She shook her hair into her hood, and said, "Let's go, Doctor Phil. We've got clothes to pay for and greasy chicken byproducts to pick up."

Snatching Raven's chosen outfit from the chair, Tek followed her out of the fitting room. "Cluck-cluck," she said with a snappy salute.

* * *

Sunset blanketed the mountains in blazing color. The crisp air grew cold, chasing his breath with steam. He stood in the yard, bare feet numb in the light dusting of snow that had blown over the tile and ruffled his gi.

He wrapped his knuckles to the wrist with heavy twine, locking his fists in place. His mind wandered far from the ache in his hands. The Master's question clung to him refusing to let go. Why had he come? What did he want?

He suspected that the Master already knew. But did he? For two months, he had subjected his broken, atrophied body to the Master's bitter work. He had honed himself back into the living weapon he had once been. But he could not fool himself into believing that he had trekked across the world for his rehabilitation. Something else in him spurred him to these great distances, something he wasn't sure he wanted to see.

The Master's face appeared from the heavy drapes of the temple door. "Urchin! Cease your frittering and get in here!" she commanded, and withdrew with a huff of drapes.

Trepidation churned in his stomach with each step he took toward the temple. If the test involved fighting the Master, then the afternoon's sparring session had proven already that he would fail. Somehow, though, he doubted she had any interest in his physical prowess. She barely tolerated him at all, and they both knew she was on a completely different level. But that left him with no clue about her test.

His uncertainty blossomed fully when he parted the curtains of the door. The small, simple temple had been swept bare. The single room's windows were curtained with the same heavy fabric as the door. One candle flickered on the stone floor next to a bowl of burning incense.

The Master stood before the bowl and candle. She rapped her stick on the floor, and said, "Kneel."

Slowly, he came before her, and lowered himself onto his knees. The Master watched with an unreadable expression. Once he was in place, she walked to the door, her stick clicking on the stone.

Half-rising, he asked, "Master, what am I—?"

"Be quiet," she uttered in flat Mandarin. "Kneel and breathe." She left, closing the curtains behind her.

He turned back to the candle and bowl with a hollow feeling. After an entire day of buildup, he felt almost cheated. Not that he would ever voice such a feeling to the Master. Ever.

The incense made the small room fragrantly warm. He breathed in the warmth, letting it seep into his bones, which had felt like ice from the moment he'd arrived. The incense spiced his blood, pulsing through his body with pleasant heat. His head became light, and bobbed on his shoulders.

He sat that way for some time. The candle burned into a nub, and then finally extinguished, plunging the room into endless pitch. Not even starlight pierced the heavy canvas over the windows. He had been told to kneel and breathe, without mention of light, and so continued to enjoy the heady warmth.

A scream leapt from the darkness. It echoed, inhuman, unrelenting, like a thousand regrets woven into a single sound. He stood at once, fists creaking with tension, eyes uselessly plumbing the endless void around him. The weightless warmth he had enjoyed made his body sway unsteadily. In the stillness that followed, his heartbeat filled his ears.

He spun, and gasped. Cyborg loomed before him, glowing in the darkness. Sparks jetted sporadically from gaping wounds that had been torn in his armor. The blue circuitry pattern throughout his body sputtered. Thick hemotrolium poured from the empty socket where his eye would have been. Choked with bile, Cyborg asked, "Why so guilty?"

He backed away and struck something. Turning, he fell onto his hands and scrambled from the ghostly visage of Raven. Black ether shrouded her body, which smoldered with raw burns. Oozing blisters broke from her skin as she stepped toward him, grasping at him with skeletal hands. "You can't mourn what you can't love," she croaked, belching smoke with the words.

As he crawled away from the grave pair, he collided with a set of misshapen knees. He looked up into a crooked face of elfin features battered into an unrecognizable mask. Blood dribbled from his broken smile. Jagged bone jutted from his skin, shredding his flesh as he moved. "We know you hate us, dude," Beast Boy said.

Soft sobs drew his eyes from the twisted Beast Boy. He flinched at the golden light roiling from Starfire, who emerged from the darkness draped in lilac sheets that rippled in an unfelt wind. Tears stained her cheeks. Her hair twisted around a face of pure sorrow. She cupped a glowing green blossom forged from a starbolt, and held it out to him.

"Please," she whispered.

Starfire screamed red. Scarlet light erupted from her mouth and eyes. She arched back, shrieking, and vanished in an explosion of the light that consumed the room. Cyborg, Raven, and Beast Boy withered and crumbled to ash under the bloody aura.

He clutched his eyes shut until the hateful light dimmed. When he looked again, he beheld the starbolt blossom, which sat wilting on the ground. He reached for it. A black boot smothered the blossom out with a stomp that chased his hand back.

Red Robin loomed over him. His arms were crossed over the scarlet silhouette stretched on his chest. He sneered down, scowling through glowing eyes, and said, "Now there's nothing left."

Hatred burnished his throat with a roar. He rose from the ground and plunged his fist into Red Robin's smirk. The blow knocked Red Robin to the floor without any resistance. He leapt upon the costumed monster, tearing him with bare hands. He screamed and sobbed until his voice died. Great chunks of black flesh tore free from Red Robin in his grasp. Blood pooled beneath them, deepening with each blow.

He hunched over his eviscerated foe, breathing hard of the coppery air. His strength was spent. With blood on his hands, he wiped his eyes, and saw.

Lying within the torn flesh and tattered suit of the Red Robin, he saw a twelve year old boy. The boy cried softly, glaring up at him with icy blue eyes. "Now there's nothing left," he murmured.

He watched the little boy sink into the gory mess. The black blood swallowed him into the endless void. The hungry void didn't stop there. It swallowed the gore, swallowed his body, in a single surge. Nothing remained.

A flickering candle parted the void as the True Master entered the temple. He found himself again, sprawled on the floor. No trace of the blood remained, but he could still feel it on his hands.

Silent, stone-faced, the Master shook her head.

* * *

One hour before the moment of truth, Raven stood before her room's dresser mirror and sighed at the almost-girl staring back at her. She had no jewelry, and no pierced ears, and only the bare essentials in cosmetics that Tek had talked her into buying at the shop. Blush and foundation for her complexion weren't exactly commonplace, but her eyelashes were laced in black, and her lips pursed with an admittedly fetching shade of blue that matched her skirt.

She resigned herself to the face in the mirror. It didn't look bad, and she doubted it could look much better, so she refused to worry about it any longer. Besides, the V-neck and pleated skirt below the face didn't feel nearly as alien as she thought they would. If she didn't know better, she would have mistaken herself for a normal sixteen year old.

Raven felt satisfaction enough that she decided to thank Tek again. Their resident amnesiac was partly to blame for her transformation, and so might as well benefit from Raven's good mood. Raven opened her third eye, felt around for the first instance of doubt and worry she could find in the Compound, and opened a portal.

She stepped through into the Commons, emerging once more from a refrigerator door. Sunset blazed in the windows, lighting the walls on fire with a wash of warm colors. The television across the room buzzed in muted silence with the intro screen of a video game. Raven had to crane her neck to see the room's sole occupant, who lay draped on the couch in misery.

"Oh. Garfield," Raven said, surprised. The misery she had felt had been his. It rolled off of him in a haze that permeated the room and fogged her third eye. "I was just looking for Tek."

Beast Boy unburied his head from his arm. Heavy bags hung under his bloodshot eyes. He looked older and wearier than ever, and lay his head back down upon seeing Raven. "Haven't seen her. Maybe try Ops. I think she's on-duty tonight."

"Thanks." Raven lingered a moment longer. She had seen Beast Boy this still only once, down in the depths of depression before marching off to face Terra in battle. Sympathy gnawed at her stomach, prompting her to say, "Garfield?"

He didn't look up, and grunted a fair approximation of the word, "What?"

The words tumbled reluctantly from her painted lips. "I'm sorry. About what I said earlier. I was apprehensive about…something that gave me no right to say those things to you. I didn't mean them."

"Yeah. You did," he said into the couch cushion.

Her sympathy curdled into guilt. "I suppose I did. But that didn't make it right. Or true."

"S'cool. Don't worry about it."

She nodded and turned, grateful for any excuse to leave. The heavy depression pressed upon her psyche with each moment she remained. "Right. Well, goodnight."

Her strappy sandals clicked smartly to the door. A quick search to find Tek, and she would be free to fret and worry until she was supposed to meet Dominic.

But the miserable, ethereal fog in the room pushed against her, making it hard to move. She stopped at the door, resting a hand on the door frame as she turned back. "What's wrong, Garfield?" she asked.

His reply came by way of the couch cushion again. "Nothing."

Nothing. Well, that was that. Even if something was bothering him, which it obviously was, he didn't want to talk about it. And no one in their right mind wanted to talk with her about their problems anyway. So why were her cute, strappy sandals clicking back toward Beast Boy? It made no sense.

She sat next to his feet on the couch, taking the extra few seconds to arrange her skirt. "What's wrong, Garfield?" she asked again with the exact same tone.

Beast Boy looked up at the proximity of her voice. He pushed himself off of his chest. Raven immediately noticed the sharp claws jutting from the ragged mittens on his hands. He noticed her notice, and hid his hands behind his back. "Yeah…" he drawled, cringing at her stare.

Raven looked deeper. She sensed in him a blaring, superficial layer of emotion, despondent, but typical in its intensity. But when she braced herself and looked deeper still, as she had in the jungle of an alien world, she did not find the faceless horror that had awakened in him. It simply wasn't there.

Reluctantly, Beast Boy brought his hands out from behind his back. "I woke up like this. I didn't wet the bed, I shredded it. And I can't morph them back. Wincing at something she couldn't sense, he added, "And my ears and nose have been going completely bonkers."

"Bonkers?"

He sniffed the word as it left her mouth. "For breakfast, you had herbal tea and an English muffin with margarine. You've brushed at least twice, and you also had…" He sniffed again, and frowned. "Barbecue?"

Raven covered her mouth in surprise and embarrassment. "I was only in the restaurant. I didn't have any," she lied.

Beast Boy's head sank into his hands. "I can smell everything. Hear everything. Right now, there are about a million cars outside, driving around the city with tiny bombs going off under their hoods, crunching the street with their tires. There are a million gallons of water gushing underground in pipes. There are people freaking everywhere, and it's like I can hear every damn thing they're doing!" He shouted at the end, stamping his feet so hard that claws emerged from their ends with a ripping sound.

Raven watched his face contort at the flood of smells and sounds she couldn't perceive. As quietly as she could, she asked, "What happened to your beast?"

He didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was strained. "The other day, when I was fighting Control Freak, I turned into something. Something else. It wasn't any kind of animal I know. I can't even really remember what it was."

The admission struck hard in Raven. She remembered a time, just a few months ago, when he had become a literal dragon to deal with an impossible situation. He had turned into a monster in the jungle when faced with it again. Now he was changing—_transforming_— for comparatively smaller threats like Control Freak.

She stared out into the sunset reflecting off the city, and the thousands upon thousands of people out in it, each feeling something different every second of every day. Their combined emotional wail washed over Raven's guarded mind, like an ocean trying to wear down a single stone.

She tried to imagine what it would be like for someone without her defenses. "It's overwhelming, isn't it. All of those people at once," she said.

Raven glanced back at Beast Boy. She pulled his hands out of his hair with gentle insistence. He mittens tore as she shucked his claws of the wool fabric. Ignoring his confusion, she placed his hands on his knees. "Here. Like this."

Beast Boy watched with bewilderment while Raven took his legs and folded them on the couch. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked.

"Be quiet," she told him.

Her cool touch straightened his back and lifted his chin. It took concentrated effort on his part not to shy from her hands, which smelled sharply of oil and perfume in his overactive nose. "No, really. You're touching me. On purpose. Are you on drugs right now? Are you chasing the dragon? Just say no, Raven."

"Be quiet," she said again, and sat next to him, with her legs curled and hands poised like his. "You're going to learn how to meditate."

"…wow, you really are on drugs," said Beast Boy.

"Clear your mind. Clear your thoughts of all distraction," Raven instructed. She closed her eyes and steadied the rise and fall of her chest with practiced ease. "Focus inward."

Beast Boy scrunched his face in a pained imitation of hers. "How am I supposed to focus inward when I can hear and smell everything my body and your body is doing? Do you have any idea how loud we are? It's really—"

"Acknowledge the distraction. Move beyond it. Sequester yourself from the noise and the smell. It cannot reach you."

"Sequester?"

"Get away from."

"Right."

Beast Boy forced his breathing in time with Raven's. Even as he knew for certain that this meditation gobblty-gook wouldn't work, his face began to relax incrementally. Minutes passed as they breathed together. He listened to their tandem breathing, concentrating on that one sound above the rush of the city and the smell of the Compound. He could still hear and smell everything, but focusing on that one piece made it seem diminished. Manageable.

When he felt confident in the relative peace between his ears, he asked, "So what about chanting? You know, 'Havabath, Metrodome, Zintoast?' I'm a fair tenor."

Raven cracked an eye and a smirk, neither of which Beast Boy saw. "Mantras are a little advanced for your first time. Just keep breathing. Do you feel any better?"

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. The bags under his eyes were already less severe. "Yeah. Yeah, a little." He felt Raven stir, and opened his eyes. She was climbing off the couch. "Raven, wait. Do you…Do you think we could do this just…just a little longer?"

Raven glanced at her watch., and then to the window. They had sat in peace for almost half an hour. The sunset had already descended behind the skyline to paint a halo around the skyscrapers around them.

"I…" She looked at Beast Boy. Just these few minutes with her had transformed him from a wreck into a glimmer of his old self. And loathe, loathe, loathe though she was to admit it, seeing his serene expression made Raven feel good. With minimal reluctance, Raven re-folded her legs beneath her and closed her eyes. "Okay," she said.

He smiled and closed his eyes. "Cool. So now what?"

"Just concentrate on your breathing. When you've got that down, I can show you a few techniques to keep your concentration through distraction, so you don't have to meditate all the time to deal with the noise and smell."

"Sounds good."

As altruistic as Raven felt, she hadn't completely forgotten herself. "Don't get too eager. You have to have actual concentration in the first place for them to work," she said with just a trace of impishness creeping in her voice.

* * *

Grunting to the rhythm of his ratchet, Cyborg tightened an undercarriage armor plate into place. Grease and sweat slicked his face. He checked and re-checked the bolt, and then set his tools aside. His finger lit with an acetylene jet of blue flame, which he lifted toward the seam.

Something kicked his leg. Cyborg extinguished his torch and tried to look past at his feet, and hit his head on the underside of the CUTTER in the process. All he was were stars and legs wrapped in taut blue and white fabric.

"Hey, Vic. You got a minute?" Tek's voice descended to find him beneath the tank.

A faint echo of his annoyance followed him as he rolled himself out from under the CUTTER. The Bay came into view from behind the CUTTER's undercarriage. His favorite section of the Compound by far, the entire upper half of the east wing was a cavernous chamber of stainless steel that housed their tank and jet. The walls were lined with tools, cabinets, boxes, and spare parts.

And at the moment, the Bay also housed Tek, who carried against her hip a monstrous bucket of barbecued chicken wings. She held the bucket out to Cyborg after he stood, and said, "Here. They're Buffalo Supreme, whatever that means."

Cyborg wiped his face with a rag, clearing the grime from his skeptical features. "What's this for?"

Tek smiled uncertainly, and said, "Bribery. To get you to stop working for a few minutes."

He tried to smile back. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm busy. I have to finish the CUTTER's rebuild, and then figure out what screwed up the Mainframe so bad. I tried to load an update into our software, and it just keeps telling me 'Game Over,' which is pretty damn annoying. So, thanks, but…"

"Vic, you're eating the wings right now. As we speak."

Cyborg glanced down and saw the bucket of wings in the crook of his arm. One wing sat poised in his fingers halfway to his mouth, which had barbecue sauce all over it. "Huh. Well, damn," he said with a shrug, and finished the wing in one bite.

Tek giggled and snagged her own wing. She sat with Cyborg on the bumper of the CUTTER, which tilted slightly at his exhausted weight. "You know, we all think you're doing an awesome job," she said.

"Here comes the 'but,'" Cyborg said around a mouthful.

"—'but,' you're doing too awesome. So awesome that you don't have time for anything else. You don't eat or sleep or hang out with us."

He jabbed his points at her with an empty chicken bone. "Hey, Robin did all this leader stuff on his own. So can I."

She grimaced. "But Robin went all Lethal Enforcer on us. And he had you to do all the technical stuff for the Tower."

Cyborg sighed and set the bucket down. "Yeah, I get that. But there's a lot to keeping this whole thing going that I never even thought about. Paperwork. Scheduling. Coordination. Paperwork. Paperwork…"

"Okay," Tek said with a laugh. "So let us help. Raven loves to read, so I bet she could zoom through a lot of that paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. Between Gar and me, we can figure out coordination with the city's emergency services. And Bushido can help by not making you want to kill him." She rested her hand on his knee, and said, "Let us help, okay?"

Cyborg beamed with a Buffalo grin. "How am I supposed to say 'no' after you blindside me with chicken wings?" Somberly, he wrapped her in a one-arm hug. "Thanks for looking out for me, kid."

She returned the hug twofold. "Finish your dinner. Then you can teach me some of the finer points of tank repair."

"Surprised it's not rattling around in that front-loaded head of yours," he joked, and resumed devouring the wings.

"Hey, don't hog the ranch sauce!"

* * *

Leaning against the hallway wall, Raven traced a shapeless path with her finger in the drywall patterns as she listened to the voice in her ear. "No," she said into her cellular-moded communicator. "It's nothing world-ending, but… No, I promise, I'm not… No, not at all."

Raven turned, looking back through the Commons doorway. At the far end, Beast Boy stretched on the couch, flicking the television remote. Raven's stomach twisted as she said, "I was really looking forward to tonight. Honest. Something just…came up."

She watched Beast Boy smile as she listened to Dominic. "Yes," she said, surprising herself, "It is pretty important."

She listened again. "Thanks for understanding. Tomorrow night, I swear. If you're free, I mean? Great. It's on me. No argument. Great. Goodbye."

Clicking her communicator shut, Raven strode back into the Commons and sat opposite Beast Boy on the couch. He had already adjusted the TV and the Gamestation into alignment. A new game's start screen waited for her, much to her chagrin.

She balked when Beast Boy handed her a controller. "All set?" he asked her.

The controller dangled from her thumb and forefinger at arm's length. "What kind of game is this, again?" she asked with dread.

"Smash Battlefield Zero," Beast Boy explained, already tapping his controller to launch the game. "It's the hottest first-person fighting racer on the market. You drive around a warzone in cars and punch people in other cars. It's awesome!"

Trying to mimic his grip on his controller with hers, Raven added, "And why am I playing this, again?"

He shrugged. "You showed me how you meditate. I thought I'd return the favor to say 'thanks.'"

"Right." Raven squinted at the screen and risked pressing a button. The machine didn't blow up, which she took to be a good sign. On-screen, a small timer counted down to the beginning of their race-battle, or whatever it was her digital car was participating in.

Beast Boy glanced over as the race countdown neared zero. He trained his ears on the buzzing of the disk in his Gamestation to drown out the rest of the oppressive city noise, just as Raven recommended. The scent of her perfume became his nose's focus, which led his eyes to the snappy outfit she wore. Delving deeper into her scent, he could still smell the store in her clothes, which were obviously new.

"Hey, I didn't notice," he said. "Why are you so dressed up? You look like a spooky Abercrombie ad."

Raven swiveled her icy stare toward him. The sarcasm in her words crushed her tone flat as she said, "Can't you tell? I'm in love with you, and this is just my way of trying to make you see the way I feel."

"Wow. That sucks for you. Especially now that you're losing!" The race started on-screen with Beast Boy's car launching from the line in a jet of fire. Raven's car remained woefully motionless.

She rolled her palm across the controller's buttons. "This is stupid. I only have two thumbs, but this thing has three joysticks," she complained.

Her digital car launched a missile that caught Beast Boy's car before the first turn of the race. Beast Boy wailed as his game counterpart burst into pixilated conflagration. He could only watch as Raven's car trundled clumsily by, spurred by her erratic button-mashing.

Raven couldn't stave off her smile. "I can't tell if that was more stupid or less stupid, but it's definitely fun now," she said.

* * *

He folded his gi and laid it on the step of the temple. Smoothing the wrinkled fabric, he watched it soak in the colors of the sunrise.

His chest filled with a deep breath, expanding the nylon mountaineering shirt he now wore. The comfortable clothes felt strange after so long in the rough burlap of his gi. The very idea of leaving the mountain felt strange.

Turning, he crossed the yard, which he had swept one last time before dawn. He had considered leaving a new broom for the Master's next student. Unable to sleep at all after his failure in the temple, he had considered many things. Now he had only one thought, and it filled him with heavy emptiness.

He had not gone ten steps from the yard when the Master's shrill voice stopped him. "Urchin!" she howled from the step of the temple. "Ungrateful pig! Get back into your clothes and prepare for practice!"

Once, her screech would have cowed him. Today it made him smile. He turned and bowed deeply to the True Master. "I thank you for your wisdom and tutelage, Master. But I must go. Please accept my most sincere gratitude," he said in humble Mandarin.

"American pig, butchering my tongue with nonsense. Get to your training," the Master demanded.

He rose and turned, and walked from the yard. The mountain path would take most of the day to reach through switchbacks and daredevil climbs. It had taken him over a week simply to climb the mountain.

Then he heard a soft word spoken in English that made him stop. "Student."

He turned. The Master stood at the edge of the yard, calm and somber. Her wrinkled face had been pulled into genuine sympathy. "Yes, Master?" he responded in English.

"You would be a fool to give up now. You have come so far, and shown remarkable progress," the Master said. "Why would you abandon that?"

She sounded genuinely surprised, which surprised him in turn. "I must do what I feel is right, Master. Regardless of your impeccable wisdom," he said.

"Feh. This is because of your failure last night." The Master hobbled toward him. "I will tell you a secret, Student. Everyone fails that test because there is no test. The herbs reveal to us what lies beneath our pride. Our fear. No one reacts well to seeing that for the first time. Not even True Masters. The real test comes from continuing after learning what lies inside of you."

He blinked. The memory of what he had seen in the temple had haunted him all night. Now, with the Master's words, it destroyed the last of him. That had been no hallucination, but what was truly inside of him.

That was the answer he had sought. That was the need that had driven him across the globe.

Now he wished he had never found it.

He bowed again. "Then I am certain of my choice, Master."

The Master laid her hand upon his cheek. Her raspy touch cupped his face, easing his sorrowed look. "What did you see, Student?" she asked gently. "What defeated you so?"

He could not look her in the eye. "Nothing worthwhile, Master. I must go."

He stood from his bow and left, walking down the slope of the ridge toward the path that would lead him off the mountain. From there, he could go anywhere in the world. From there, he had no idea where to go.

The True Master watched him descend into the sunrise. He soon disappeared into the trees, which shone with the colors of the sky. A look of sadness furrowed her brow. "Run if you must, Student," she murmured to herself. "You will never escape what you saw. True champions never do."

**To Be Continued**


	13. Streetbeat: Looking for a Fight

_Disclaimer_

**Streetbeat** is a registered trademark of Net Ghost Productions. All trademarked characters, locations, themes, and ideas are used here as official canon fiction of the Streetbeat universe. All other characters are courtesy of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. Use or reproduction of any original characters herein is strictly prohibited by law.

Sorry for the delay, folks. One of my unfortunately characteristic burnout periods. Back to the show!

* * *

Bri curled into a ball and tried to think of somewhere other than where she was. Her mind struggled to transport her far from the cold cement floor pressing into her cheek. Try as they might to leave, her thoughts were pounded back into her body by the mob surrounding her that kicked ever part of her it could reach.

Filthy soles pummeled her from all sides. She shuddered, biting back her whimper at each kick. The first time, she had whimpered. This was her do-over. She couldn't go through it a third time. She wasn't sure she would even get the chance. So she gritted her teeth until her jaw clicked. Her scream buzzed silently behind her tongue.

Freak. Bitch. Monster. The slurs rained down on her as heavily as the kicking. The mob screamed at her, berated her, beat every inch of her, wanted to break her. She just had to hold on. Just a little longer. Just a little longer. Hold on. Don't cry. Hold on.

Finally the kicking ceased. The dark room silenced, and the mob around her backed away. Through her tears, she saw a man approach her, parting the retreating mob. He wore a tattered denim jacket with a number sprayed crudely across its front. Bri tried to get up, but nothing in her body worked anymore. It just hurt. So she lay on her back and wheezed while the man loomed over her.

An eternity crawled by until at last, a yellowing smile split his charcoal skin. He pulled a rag out of his pocket and tossed it into her lap. "Wipe your face, freak," he said. "Eights don't cry."

The warehouse shook with thunderous cheering. Those indistinct faces that had been the mob around her moments ago now crowded around her again. She flinched as their hands descended upon her. They hauled her roughly to her feet and bounced her around with congratulatory slaps and punches.

Bri tried to return their smiles. She might have succeeded. Wet numbness pooled in her face, making it impossible to tell. She settled for wiping her eyes with the rag, which she tossed away before her brain could register how much of her blood had soaked into the cloth.

The lights snapped on overhead, illuminating the abandoned warehouse that the Jump City Eighty-Eights had claimed as their own. Stolen car parts littered half of the floor. An old, flipped Honda served as a wobbly perch to the bangers that hadn't been able to crowd around for Bri's initiation. The rest of the bangers dispersed to the pool tables, or to the cracked big-screen TV with the car couches set up at the far end.

Someone handed Bri a cup of something cold and wet. She gulped half of it, and then nearly vomited. Beer. Her face screwed as she downed the entire cup. She had no tolerance, and she hadn't eaten in days, so the alcohol hit her almost as soon as she lowered the cup from her swollen lips. She coughed and tried to smile again.

The man in the jacket grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the congratulating circle. Bri stumbled to follow him into a small room separated from the rest of the warehouse by a wall of broken panes. It had once been some kind of office, and still had a desk rusting on three legs. The man ushered Bri inside and pressed her down into the folding chair in front of the desk.

"How you feelin', kid?" the man asked as he sat in the office chair behind the desk. It squeaked under his brawny weight, and was composed of more duct tape than upholstery. "Initiation can get rough. Guys usually go hard on freaks like you. Figure you can take it, y'know?"

Bri's whole face felt like a purple and brown balloon. She couldn't even open her left eye anymore. "'M Fine," she grunted.

He smiled. "Good. 'Cause as of now, you're an Eight. We got your back. We got what you need. You take care of us, and we take care of you." He drew from his jacket a small, white package, and tossed it onto the desk.

A snack cake. A stupid- pre-wrapped snack cake, the kind her grandpa used to hate her eating. It bounced once before Bri snatched it and tore into it with her teeth. She squeezed the cake out of its wrapper, mashing it into her mouth. It disappeared down her throat before she had a chance to taste it.

The man laughed and tossed her another snack cake. "Yeah. We got your back. And you got ours. Eight for life. Ain't that right, freak?"

Bri choked halfway through the second cake. She looked up at his smile, and felt a little like a cat trapped in a dog kennel. "I guess…" she drawled.

"No guessin'. I seen what you ca n do. You may be a freak. But you're 'our' freak now. And we got just the thing for you."

The wrapped crinkled in her grasp. Her stomach, awakened by the processed sugar, churned violently. "Wh-What do you want me to do?" she whispered.

The man laughed. "Girl, don't sound so scared about it. You're gonna be fine. In fact, we got others like you. Couple o' Eights I picked myself that I been lookin' to use for just the right job. And now that we got you, we just gotta wait for the right time. You savvy?" She shook her head, and he laughed again. "You will."

"O-Okay," she stammered.

He laughed again as she finished the cake. "I like you, girl. We gotta get you inked. You need a name, too. How about…" He drew the syllable out, pondering, frowning at her as though she were a brain teaser to puzzle out. Then he snapped his fingers. "Rush. You like it?"

"My name is Bri—"

"Not anymore, Rush," he said. "My Eights, my rules. And the only rule is," he said, hooking his thumbs back at his chest, "Krieg rules."

* * *

**Streetbeat  
****Looking for a Fight**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

Sixty years ago, it had been built as a towering cathedral, the grandest one like it on the West Coast. The early days of Jump City had been good to the cathedral, and in turn, it gave back to the community. Faith and unity prospered.

The recession didn't hit the cathedral directly. Instead, the poverty and despair collected around it. The city rezoned the land around it again and again, until the area became a bedlam of low-income hovels and failed businesses. The cathedral still stood, but as a beacon in an area where no one wanted it. Its congregation shrank until, at last, the beacon was closed down.

As poverty worsened in Jump City, the land became worthless. Demolishing the cathedral would have cost more than was worth to build fresh on the property. So it was left to rot, abandoned. Its white pillars yellowed. Its stained windows shattered. In time, it became just another fixture of urban decay.

Now it shone again. Its broken windows were fixed and bulletproof. Its doors were thick, coded, and booby-trapped. No longer a cathedral, it remained a Sanctuary.

Jason Hawke leaned against one of those armored windows, looking out across the dilapidated grounds of his home and at the city abutting it. With all the work that had gone into refurbishing the building, he wondered if they should next fix the rest of the property. Only a few stubborn scrubs of grass clung to the dirt, and those were a sickly shade of yellow. Stumps of broken statuary remained in a few spots. All in all, there wasn't much to look at.

Then again, he wasn't much to look at either. Dirty blond hair sat on his scalp and face, neither of which he bothered to keep neat. An old denim jacket hung from his broad shoulders. Its sleeves were ripped, its seams, torn, and a graffiti "S" had been painted on its back. A fraying leather strap crossed his chest to hold an old sheath on his back, where he kept a rusting, chipped broadsword that looked as out of place as the rest of him.

"Hey, Jace." Queenie asked, ascending the steps to the upper deck of Sanctuary.

He looked back from the window. Even before Queenie finished climbing the stairs, she was tall enough to force Jason to tilt his head back to meet her inquisitive gaze. She towered over him, though he was by no means small. Her old, faded Gotham Knights sweatshirt stretched around rippling musculature that would shame a bodybuilder.

She looked even taller than usual, thanks to the second head that poked above her dreadlocks. He wore an oversized baseball cap and a patchwork coat that all but hid the rest of him. The boy waved enthusiastically, and cried, "Hi, Jason!"

"Hey, Patches. Hey, Limpi," Jason said with a smirk.

Queenie's smile soured. "I hate it when you call me that." She leaned over him, glancing out the window. Patches squealed and grabbed her dreads to keep steady. "Wha'cha doin'?" she asked Jason.

He glanced back out. "Thinking," he said. Then, with a touch of embarrassment, he added, "About landscaping."

She found her smile again in a laugh. "Ha! We could get y' a straw hat an' one of those li'l shovels. You could plant tulips around Strip's new defense stuff."

Shrugging, Jason leaned back against the wall.

The interior of Sanctuary had changed remarkably, starting with the upper level upon which they stood. Rows of empty bunk beds lined the upper level in a ring that circled the entire cathedral. They had never filled all of the beds since building the new space, something for which Jason supposed he should be grateful. Below them, separate areas were set up for their kitchen, workshop, command center, and a commons area in which to relax.

"I have to do something," he said. "This place is finally shipshape, and we've been moving kids in and out pretty quick. Don't even have any right now."

"Nu-uh!" Patches cried from his Queenie seat. "I'm here!"

The little boy fell silent at Jason's stern glare. "Yeah, and you shouldn't be. You were supposed to go with Child Services this morning with the rest. That was the deal, Patches. You got your extra week."

Patches dug his fingers into Queenie's dreads, making her wince. "No! I wanna stay here! I'm gonna be a Streetbeat!" he squalled.

"Maybe in ten years. Besides, I don't even know if we need all the ones we've got already," Jason retorted before he could stop himself.

Queenie frowned down at Jason, losing all humor from her expression. She hefted Patches off her shoulder and set him on the deck. "G'on, squirt. Go get Blink to play a video game with you, or someth'n'." With a swat on his butt, Queenie sent him running down the stairs. Once Patches had left earshot, she leaned in close to Jason, and said, "Spill, sucker. What's up?"

A tiny, annoyed sigh ghosted out of Jason's nose. "Nothing. Everything's fine. Everyone is safe and fed, which is better than fine. The only thing not fine is me, because for some stupid reason, all that ain't good enough for me. So I'm an idiot."

She leaned next to him on the wall. "Nothin' new, at least," she said playfully."

"I just feel like we could be doing more, y'know? We got all that charity from a bunch of rich old guys who don't even really know us. We're helping ore and more kids, gettin' 'em off the street before…well, before." He rubbed his face. "But we could do a lot more with the kind of cash we have now," he said.

"Like what?" she asked. From someone else, the question might have sounded sarcastic. Queenie, however, was genuinely curious.

The secured front doors buzzed as their heavy metal lock ratcheted aside. Magnum slid into Sanctuary, only remembering to close the door behind him as an afterthought. He wore crisp clothes that bore designer labels large enough to be read across the room. A wave of spiked, dark hair framed his burnished golden smirk.

He caught sight of Patches running down the stairs and scooped the little boy off the last step. "Hey! What did I tell you about running on the stairs?" he growled playfully at the boy.

"It's super-fun to jump from the high steps?" giggled Patches.

"Alright!" Magnum tossed Patches, who landed on his hands and feet in a delighted crouch to hop away. Unladen, Magnum sauntered into Sanctuary and spread his hands. "God damn, but this is beautiful. See this? This is what sixty dollars applied directly to your scalp by babealicious stylists looks like," he crowed, and pointed to his hair.

Bright light flashed by his elbow. It faded an instant later to reveal Blink. The berry blue boy stood on his tiptoes as he examined Magnum's extravagant haircut. Then he said, "You paid that much money to have somebody mess up your head? I would have done it for ten bucks."

Scoffing, Magnum ran his hands alongside his head. "Please. This isn't 'messed,' it's 'tussled.' Go on, touch it. Touch the awesomeness."

"Yeah, I'll pass," said Blink, cringing at the crisp, gelled crow's nest. He vanished into another bright flash of light, reappearing across the sprawling room in the commons area.

Magnum stomped his foot, and shouted, "Hey! I just spent an ass-load of money on this 'do, so you show it some respect! Somebody better damn well touch my head and tell me how sweet it is!"

A pale finger stretched out and touched the back of Magnum's head. Magnum shivered as a miniscule lightning bolt tickled his scalp. The gel caking his hair crackled like popping corn. His hair exploded into a frizzy mess. He whirled away from the finger and clutched his head.

Juice grinned and pulled his hand back. He rubbed his powder-white fingertip on his chest, which was black and glossy with the material of the containment suit that wrapped him from head to foot. The copper lightning bolt veins running through the suit glimmered in the fluorescent light as he laughed. "Hail the hair," he said.

"Real funny, Juice," Magnum snarled. Grumbling, he pulled an enormous tube of gel from his jacket and squeezed half of it out onto his scalp, and then set about massaging the frizz into a more acceptable mess.

Jason smirked from above at his friends' antics. "We've got a good thing goin' here, Limpi. Why rock the boat, right?"

Queenie wasn't fooled in the slightest. "Bull. This is 'bout all that super hero stuff again, isn't it? Ever since Robin put that idea in your skull, you can't let it go."

Jason, who had faced down rampaging killer robots, who had slain aberrant sewer mutant monsters, who had chased nearly every gang out of Jump Central, blushed at being read so easily. "It's not a bad idea," he muttered, turning away.

"It's a terrible idea," Queenie retorted. "Look, I don't mind pitchin' in when the world's about to end, like those Slade-bots last year. And when X-face and his bunch came knockin', I was right there with you. But we don't go lookin' for a fight. Last I checked, that's a good thing. Or did you forget?"

Jason closed his eyes. "I won't forget, Queenie. Not ever," he said in a small voice.

Queenie's scowl softened. She sighed, and nudged him with her elbow. "Still," she drawled, playing her own devil's advocate, "I guess we could think 'bout doin' a li'l more. If there's real trouble, I mean. The town's been through a lot in th' last year. Everybody's still hurtin'. Givin' everybody somebody t' look up to might be a good idea."

Cracking a single eye and a tiny smile, Jason asked, "You wanna start a war on purse snatchers? They've been asking for it."

She punched him on the arm. Even playful, Queenie's fist left deep purple marks. "Aim higher," she told her cringing friend.

Their shared smile fell between them as a tremor rattled the floorboards. They felt and heard the rumble, and grabbed the wall for support. An amateur orchestra of dogs and car alarms played outside. The lights overhead snapped out at the rumble's fading. Columns of dusty light poured into the old cathedral.

"Hey!" Blink cried from the commons area. "My show!"

Jason stomped down the stairs. His voice dropped an octave and rose into a shout. "Everyone under cover now! Patches, find a table! Stripwire--!"

The lights snapped on again. In the sudden illumination, all eyes fell to the ring of tables near the door that served as the nerve center of Sanctuary. A young, goggled teen sat behind a row of computers at one table. His silver arm ended in a writhing bundle of tendrils whose ends danced across three consecutive keyboards. Behind him, a gas generator rumbled, pumping power into the building and noxious fumes out a pipe drilled through the wall.

"Backup power is up. We have fourteen hours of generator power remaining, minus the approximate length of this sentence," Stripwire said with preternatural calm. His goggles tilted up at Jason's approach. Queenie was right behind him. "Power is out for at least the entire block. I am investigating the situation," he said.

Jason circled the tables to stand behind Stripwire. The three cobbled monitors strobed with window after window of information. Just trying to watch one of the monitors made Jason dizzy, so he stared meaningfully over their tops. "Earthquake?" he asked.

Tilting his head, Stripwire mused, "Possible, but unlikely. I detected only one tremor that lasted point seven eight seconds. Such a tremor would not be able to disable power for any sizeable area. It is likelier that the tremor was a byproduct of… One moment."

Stripwire's head tilted to the other side. The tentacles retracted into his arm, sliding into plating that reconstructed into a humanoid hand. He focused his efforts on a single computer and its keyboard. Its screen resolved into the interior of a news studio, where two distraught news anchors sat behind their desks with an emergency graphic displayed between them.

"—_in a situation arising at the North Shore Power Plant. Unconfirmed reports are coming in that the Titans' altercation with who we believe are the self-ascribed 'Teen Tyrants' culminated—_"

Blink flashed behind Jason, momentarily blinding everyone else. "The Tyrants?" he asked.

"Those jokers?" Magnum groused, rubbing his eyes. "Good. I hope the Titans tear them nice, wide, wet new ones."

A wave and a hiss from Jason brought quick quiet back to the room.

"—_continuing through the northern suburbs and back toward the city. We understand that the Police's SCU is deploying to intercept the Tyrants en route. However, city officials are advising that all citizens remain indoors until the situation—_"

Jason exchanged looks with Queenie. The tension in his jaw conversed with her scowl. But in the end, she nodded, and held her breath to keep her sigh from escaping. Jason turned back to the streaming news broadcast, his eyes narrowing upon the city map painted in threat zones of red, orange, yellow, and blue.

"Strip, shut it down. Get ready to lock up. Everybody else, gear up. We roll in three."

Half a dozen stares met his announcement. Queenie's was inscrutable. The rest were confused. Ever loquacious, Magnum found the words first to sum up the question hanging between them. "Um, why? This doesn't even remotely matter to us."

Stooping by the command center tables, Jason began rummaging through a stack of plastic bins they kept organized in the cramped space. Explosive discs, communicators, and a bevy of Stripwire's cleverer works left the bins to be pocketed in Jason's jacket. The communicators he laid on the table, keeping one for himself. "We're gonna get ahead of the police and stop the Tyrants from making it back to town," he said.

Juice raised his hand. "No, Mag's right. It hurts to say that—physically, right here," he said with a grimace, and tapped his stomach. "But this ain't our fight. The Titans—"

"I don't know about you guys," Jason said sharply, "But I'm sick of waiting around for the Titans to fix all our problems. These Tyrant clowns have already burned through Jump Central once, back before they even had a name. You know they'd try it again if they had a chance."

He knew no such thing, but it sounded inspiring. To punctuate, he slid the bunch of communicators across the table. No one reached for them.

It was clear that none of his friends were spoiling for a fight. Given what they had been through in the last year, he couldn't exactly blame them. But he knew they were all meant for something far greater than scratching out a meager existence here. They could really make a difference for Jump Central. For Jump City! And if it took giving them a push to achieve that greatness, then he would push them as far as he could.

"Come on, guys," he said. "Let's show everybody how it's done."

Uncertainty ran thick in their shared glances. Even Stripwire remained motionless in his seat. But then Queenie stepped forward and picked up one of the communicators. Her stern expression spoke wordless volumes to Jason, but her voice remained firmly in his camp. "C'mon, y'all. You heard 'im."

One by one, the Streetbeat took their communicators. Stripwire took his first, and then pulled a large bin from under his computer table. The bin rattled with more weaponized discs, as well as revolver ammunition that made Magnum grin and grab.

"I suppose this will provide an opportunity to field test more equipment," Stripwire said.

Blink took his communicator last, and said nothing. But his uneasy expression did not escape Queenie's notice.

"I had one special piece of equipment in mind, Strip," said Jason. "Think it'll get us there?"

Stripwire lifted one eyebrow. For the young cyborg, this amounted to a guffaw.

* * *

Rush sat draped over the sill of a broken window in a derelict apartment building. Her boneless boredom made her settle like sediment as she stared across the street at Sanctuary's closed doors. Keeping watch on the enemy's headquarters had seemed more exciting two days ago.

Not that she was completely ungrateful for the boredom. The swelling on her face had mostly subsided, leaving her with an unresponsive mask of a thousand shades of purple for a face. Her chest and stomach hurt less. She still ran with a limp, but nobody could see it. One of her teeth wiggled in her gums. She kept her tongue away from it, hoping that it would settle back in on its own. She wasn't sure if teeth worked that way or not.

A pizza box sat on the floor next to her. Rush took a cold slice from inside, the last of her food. The slice disappeared in a flash, muffling the pained gurgles coming from under her T-shirt. Krieg refused to give her anything more until her reconnaissance bore results. New Eights, he had told her, don't eat for free. Freaks especially had to pull their weight.

She toed the box and swallowed the last bite, stifling her sigh. The gurgle in her stomach tempted her to call Krieg with a sighting, regardless of what she saw, just for a chance for more food. But the throbbing on her arm convinced her otherwise.

Rolling up her sleeve, she stared at the prickly, crooked pair of eights tattooed on her arm. The skin still stung when she touched the dark, inked area. This time she couldn't stifle her sigh. She didn't even try. Her vision grew blurry, and she tugged her sleeve back down.

Creaking noise made her wipe her eyes and look back out the window. Her heart raced when she saw Sanctuary's grand doors swing open, and all six of the Streetbeat walked out. The one with the shiny arm and goggles closed the door behind them and pressed a sequence onto a keypad next to the door. They looked to be leaving for at least a little while. All of them.

Rush fumbled for her phone. She dropped it in mid-dial, and snatched it back up just as it started to ring. By the time she got it to her ear, she heard Krieg's gruff voice demand, "_What?_"

"I-I-I see them," stammered Rush. "They're coming out. All of them, just like you said."

"_'Bout time,_" he grunted. "_Stay with 'em. Don't care where they go, you keep on 'em. I'm comin' with the rest to head 'em off. Start texting. I don't want any of Hawke's freaks hearin' you comin'_."

Krieg hung up without another word. Stuffing her phone into her pocket, Rush stood, keeping clear of the window. Then she vanished from the room, leaving only a trail of dust rolling in her wake.

* * *

Jason led them across the mottled grounds to the small, dilapidated shed erected at the edge of the fence. His mind buzzed with battle strategy, and his body tingled with adrenal anticipation. Every detail he could recall about facing Red X and his fearsome bunch the last time leapt to the forefront of his thoughts. He couldn't be sure if this "Ravager" character was the same person, but he was happy to give Ravager the beating he owed Red X in either case.

"Let's move, guys," he said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Juice rolled his shimmering eyes. "We're right behind you," he pointed out.

As they rounded the shed to its crooked door, Stripwire jogged to catch up to them. "Please wait," he called.

"Why?" Magnum scoffed, and tugged the door back onto its sliding track. "You think we're gonna ruin the surprise? We've all seen it."

"It is not the 'surprise' you tend to ruin, Magnum," Stripwire said matter-of-factly.

Magnum sneered and yanked back on the door. It took his whole weight to force the door to slide. From behind the rotting wooden curtain appeared Stripwire's latest project. Half its grille was missing. Its windshield was cracked and pitted. What little paint that remained brought to mind the color of a fine meal long after one was done eating it. But it had four wheels and, they presumed, an engine under its dented hood.

It also had a little boy sitting in its driver's seat, waving enthusiastically at them from behind the steering wheel. "Hi, guys! Let's go!" Patches squealed.

"Holy hell," Juice muttered, staring at Patches as he approached the old station wagon. "Do we have two teleporters now?"

Queenie opened the car and pulled the giggling boy out. "He's not a teleporter. He's a six-year-old."

"And he's not coming with us. Not a chance," Jason told the little boy dangling in Queenie's grasp.

Patches' smile twisted into a pout. He pounded on Queenie's hands at his ribs, and whined, "But I wanna help! I wanna!"

Jason caught Patches' kicking feet. His stern look quelled the boy's fussing. "You wanna help, little man? You get back inside, and you guard Sanctuary. Plenty of bad stuff can happen with nobody watching the house. Think you can handle it?"

Incredulity twisted Patches' face into a scowl. "Guard the house? How dumb do you think I am?"

"Not dumb enough to pass on the only opportunity I'm gonna give you. Or do you think I won't tell Blink to poof you inside and duct tape you to a bunk?" Jason asked.

Patches looked up at Queenie as she set him down. Her bemused nod made him smile again, albeit dejectedly. He gave Jason a salute and said, "I'll do it! Sanct'ary is gonna be a hunnerd percent safe, Jason!"

Jason smiled back. "Good. Now scoot, pipsqueak. We've got butt to kick. And Strip, disable the lock. Give him a minute to get inside."

The rest of the Streetbeat edged into the shed as Patches ran back toward the cathedral. There wasn't much room left around the car. But that didn't keep Stripwire from looking down at the door as he reached for its handle. He read aloud the lettering that had been spray-scrawled across the side of the car. "Fraggin' Wagon?" Glancing up, he leveled his goggles at Magnum. "I take it Patches is not the only party to sneak into my hangar."

Magnum grinned and shrugged. "It fits, don't it?" He opened the back door, slamming it hard against the shed wall. Then he grabbed Blink by the shoulder and shoved him in, shouting, "Not-Bitch!"

Jason slid into the passenger seat. Then an unyielding wall of Queenie pushed him into the middle of the bench, where he was squashed against Stripwire in the driver's seat. Queenie shrugged helplessly at his dirty look, but there was a petty impishness dancing in her eyes.

Shaking his head, Jason surveyed the interior of the Wagon. The inside looked almost as impressive as the outside. It worried him. "Strip," he asked, "Can this thing even—"

His head flew back as the Wagon jumped out of the shed. Dirt sprayed from the tires in the Wagon's mad dash across the grounds. The Streetbeat inside bounced around, slamming their heads together as Stripwire guided the Wagon through a gap in the fence and over the curb.

The engine didn't make more than a whisper, even as Stripwire flattened the accelerator. "Please buckle up," he instructed the others.

"Never mind," Jason groaned, rubbing his head. "And ow…"

"I don't hear an engine," Juice said nervously while he watched the outside world whiz by at a decidedly unsafe speed. "Is this thing electric? It doesn't feel electric."

"It is, in a manner of speaking," Stripwire answered.

Blink grabbed the front seat and hauled himself forward. He tried to read the dials Stripwire had installed in the dash. None of them made sense to him. "What kind of 'manner?' Wait. Is this thing nuclear?"

Stripwire did not answer immediately. "The vehicle is powered by a small, controlled fusion reaction," he admitted.

Extensive video game knowledge made Blink's eyes bug. "Fusion? Fusion explodes!"

Jason's hand grabbed Blink by the face and shoved him back into his seat. "Shut up and belt up. No one's exploding." He waited several seconds before leaning over to Stripwire, and muttered, "No one's exploding, right?"

"It is unlikely," Stripwire muttered back.

Thoroughly unassuaged, Juice turned back to his window to watch the neighborhood flash past. His hand flexed open and closed, crackling with blue static. As he watched, the world outside began to blur and darken, as if a filter had been placed across the window. A buzzing noise arose from outside as the darkness intensified. "Um, guys? What's going on outside?" he asked.

Magnum frowned at the blurry darkness outside his window. "I dunno. Eclipse?"

The windshield afforded Stripwire a better vantage point. He saw late afternoon sunshine overhead, and the darkness forming a ring around the Wagon. Whatever it was, it had no trouble pacing them at fifty miles an hour, and it made seeing past the hood more difficult with each passing second. "The effect is not solar. It is, however, beginning to hinder—"

The Wagon rocked violently, tossing the Streetbeat in their seats.

Magnum cracked his forehead on the window. He shook the stars from his eyes in time to see something important bounce away from their car, disappearing behind the dark blur. "Uh, Strip? Wheel."

"Pardon?" Stripwire asked as he fought the steering wheel for control.

"Wheel! Wheel!" Magnum shouted.

The Wagon bucked again. Jason's vision was swallowed by color as his head slammed into the roof. Fierce shaking consumed the car. Metal shrieked against the pavement. The world spun and screamed, forcing Jason's hand over his ears.

When the noise and vertigo finally stopped, Jason opened his eyes. The Wagon was mercifully intact, at least from what he could see. Their car sat in the middle of an empty road at the edge of Jump Central, where the buildings were short and dilapidated, but still habitable. It was hard to tell, because his head and neck were throbbing, but it looked like they were sitting lower than they had been before the crash.

"Everybody, sound off if you're not dead," Jason groaned. Four separate voices groaned back at him while he struggled with his seat belt. The mechanism was jammed, so he pulled a knife and cut the belt entirely. "Stripwire, what the hell was that? …Stripwire?"

Stripwire sat stiffly straight in his seat. A large bruise purpled on his forehead, which was trickling blood onto the rim of his safety goggles. "The Check Engine light is active," he said, nodding to the tiny diode glowing in his dash. "I will need to exit the vehicle…to ascertain…"

Jason rested a hand on his shoulder. Stripwire didn't have the strength to resist as he was eased back against the bench seat. "Stay put." Looking across the rest of the interior, he said, "Anybody else?"

Rubbing his forehead, Magnum said, "I have emotional trauma, but I'm willing to suck it up for the moment."

"Big of you. Everybody out, now. Eyes and ears up."

They piled out of the car, leaving Stripwire behind the wheel. Jason ascertained the problem as soon as he slid out behind Queenie. The wheels on the Wagon had been removed. Not shot off. Not torn off. There were four empty sockets, devoid of their lugs.

"There's your problem," said Magnum.

A flash of movement caught Jason's eye. He whirled around, his hand already crossed to his shoulder and at the hilt of his sword. Across the street, half-hidden on the steps of an apartment building, was a young girl. She looked to have just crossed into her teens, and wore clothes that had clearly seen better days. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a braid. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her dusky skin, and her shoulders rose and fell as though she had just run a mile.

She was the only soul besides them on the lonely street. Lowering his hand, Jason approached her. "Hey, you," he said. "Did you see…?"

Her eyes went wide as he approached. She stood up and stumbled back, tripping on the steps. When she fell, a tire iron clattered out of her jacket, along with a handful of lug nuts that rang when they struck the concrete.

Jason frowned in confusion at the iron. His frown blossomed into a full scowl when he connected it to the fear he saw in her eyes. "Who are you?" he demanded. "How did you—?"

The girl disappeared. Jason didn't realize what happened to her until he saw the tail end of a blur flash past him—a blur identical to the one he had seen through their windshield moments before. The vortex chasing after her nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Shit! Speedster!" Magnum yelled. His rusty revolvers had already cleared the holsters in his jacket. Their chambers spun as he tried to track the blur. Soundless bullets shot from their barrels. He sprayed his guns empty in a sweep across the street that made his fellow Streetbeat duck and cry, but did little else. The blur—the girl—vanished without a trace.

Rising up from her crouch behind the Wagon, Queenie searched the street for any other sign of attack. The empty neighborhood felt haunted now, with the possibility of attack lying in each long shadow she saw. She hadn't recognized the girl from the brief glimpse of her she'd gotten. "Who was that?" she asked.

"Shh!" Blink hissed. His eyes darted wildly about. "Don't you hear that?"

As they stilled, the others did hear: a soft, ghostly giggling rose up in the silence. Try though they might, none of the Streetbeat could find its source. The giggling grew louder, closer, but from nowhere.

"What the hell is that?" demanded Blink. "What's going on?"

Jason looked down, trying to concentrate. Then he jumped back. Youthful, Asian features were growing out of the ground, smiling impishly, with twinkling eyes that stared back up at him. As he stumbled back, the face in the ground descended, melting back into the pavement.

He kept backing away and drew his sword. The old blade left its sheath with a song of steel on leather and came down before him in a two-handed grip. He leveled his attention to the ground, taking careful notice of the street in front of him.

A pale hand reached out of the ground and grasped Jason's ankle. He didn't feel it in time to keep himself upright, and toppled to the ground, grunting in pain. His sword dropped at his side with a clatter. Even as he reached to collect it, the sprouting hand snatched the blade by its handle and pulled it underground.

Jason swore and clawed at the solid, unperturbed ground. He pounded his fist into the street. The eyes of his Streetbeat fell to him as he stood and turned. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he bellowed, "That's enough! Whoever's out there, get on out here and let's get this over with! I'm through playing!"

"You're the boss," an echoing voice shouted back.

Fire burst from the ground, encircling the Wagon and the Streetbeat with a wall of towering flames. Flinching together, the Streetbeat backed from the wall and toward their wheel-deprived car, helpless in the intense heat of their sudden prison.

Digging through his coat, Jason had just found a freeze disc among the arsenal he had taken from Sanctuary. He drew his arm back to hurl it when the flames abruptly snuffed themselves. A smoldering ring of melted pavement remained behind, making the air shimmer with heat. Through the thick air, Jason saw new figures approaching them from down the street, arrived in the fires' confusion. His face twisted with disgust as he recognized some of the figures' faces.

"'S'up, Hawke?" Krieg asked. He strode ahead of the rest, wearing his denim jacket over bare, sculpted muscle. His eyes glimmered with bemused hate as he drew near to the beleaguered Streetbeat.

Grinding tension creaked in Jason's jaw. His fists whitened and trembled, drawn tight at his sides. He would have charged Krieg then and there, but the odds weren't good. A lanky teen stood next to Krieg, dressed in an Eighty-Eight jacket. That itself wouldn't have been enough to stop Jason, but the teen's hands and eyes both glowed with red heat. When the teen saw Jason's notice, he smiled, and summoned a ball of flame into his hand. He spun the flame on his fingertip and waggled his eyebrows.

"Hey, it's Krieg," Magnum said. He waved his revolver jovially, and called, "Hi, Krieg!"

"Hey, Mag. How's it goin'?" Krieg asked.

"Pretty good, now that I have a target," Magnum said.

His gun spat a silent bullet straight at Krieg's head. It would have killed Krieg, if the teen behind him hadn't already stepped in front of the shot. She was slender to the point of sickly, and wore a baggy tank top and enormous jeans that were knotted around her waist with cord. She was smiling when Magnum shot her.

The bullet bounced off of her forehead. It didn't make a sound. It didn't move her an inch. The girl didn't even blink. Magnum's shot ricocheted high and dove into the side of a building, where it spat out a wad of brick for its trouble.

The girl winked at Magnum, who looked to his gun in puzzlement. "That's never happened before…" he mused embarrassedly.

The grossly enormous man at Krieg's other side laughed. His clothes strained to contain the mountainous flab that padded every inch of his body. He towered over the rest of Krieg's gang, and even topped Queenie by several inches with his buzzed, sweaty scalp. His porcine features twisted into a sneer as he snorted, "Get used to it. You little girl scouts are done."

Wind rushed past the Streetbeat, blowing aside the smoldering heat. The blur-girl appeared at Krieg's side, panting, wiping her brow. A single, dark look from Krieg made her straighten and take her place behind him.

Krieg reaffirmed his empty smile when he looked back to the Streetbeat. He held out his hand to the empty air. As if summoned, the face in the street that had stolen Jason's sword reappeared at Krieg's feet. It rose out of the ground, trailing behind it the body of a tiny girl in a yellow sun dress. She carried Jason's broadsword, which she placed in Krieg's expectant hand.

Swinging the sword to his shoulder, Krieg said, "So, let's see. I got better freaks. I got your blade. And I got you cornered." His lips twisted with menace. "So who's in charge now, Hawke?"

**To Be Continued**


	14. Streetbeat: Beat Feet

* * *

**Streetbeat  
****Beat Feet**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

"You know the rules, Krieg. Gangs don't come into Jump Central. Ever," Jason said.

The deserted street echoed with Krieg's laugh. His nasty grin beamed as he said, "Yeah? Well, maybe the Eighty-Eights don't play by your rules no more, Hawke. Me and my new crew here are thinkin' 'bout runnin' our own game 'round here," he said, spreading his arms to the colorful assortment around him.

Jason glanced to either side of Krieg. He recognized a few of the faces: the wiry boy cupping flames in his hands, and the enormous, corpulent man who towered behind Krieg. The rest were unknowns: the little girl in the sundress, the spindly and strangely bulletproof girl, and the speedy girl who had taken their tires.

His glance didn't escape Krieg. "Oh, that's right. You don't know everybody here. 'Course, you remember Pig and Pyre," he said, waving to the bulk behind him and to the fiery boy, respectively. "An' this here is Spooky an' Rebound. You met Rush in the car, right?"

The speedster shrank under Jason's glare. Jason clenched his empty hands at his side until they ached. Seeing Krieg shouldering his sword ignited a long-dormant hatred in him. Under better circumstances, he would have charged the gang bangers that were stupid enough to set foot in his neighborhood. But with Stripwire still nursing a head wound in the Wagon, he hesitated.

"So what happens now?" he called.

A sick grin exploded from within the Eighty-Eight's leader. He glanced down, swinging Jason's broadsword, testing its weight. "Well, ol' buddy, you gonna die. That's what's happenin'. But I tell you what. If you give up and go easy, I might give your freaks a chance to run. Maybe they even wanna join up after what happens here…if they're good enough."

Magnum leaned in close to Jason from behind. His voice became a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, that's not such a bad deal."

"Shut up, Mag," Queenie snapped. She glanced at Jason, and asked, "So are we fightin' here, or what?"

Jason glanced back at the rest of his friends. They answered his unspoken question with a single look, a look that he gave in turn to Queenie. She nodded.

He pulled from his jacket a silver disc the size of a small Frisbee. The Streetbeat "S" stamped in its center was surrounded by a red ring. "Fast and hard!" he barked, and hurled the disc.

The scrawny girl, Rebound, sprinted into the flying disc. She crossed her arms and batted the disc aside. It wobbled away and struck a mailbox smothered in graffiti, which erupted into a ball of fire and fluttering envelope fragments. Rebound's pale sneer glowed hellishly in the brief blaze. Raining bits of ash drifted into her hair.

Krieg lifted the sword tip at the charging Streetbeat. "Kill 'em all," he commanded.

Drawing a knife from his belt, Jason ran straight for Rebound. But Magnum ran faster, and shoved Jason out of the way. Magnum's revolvers whirled in his hands. He willed the solid slugs inside to leap out the barrels and hole the skinny Eight. "Just how bulletproof are you, bitch?" he crowed.

The cold iron slugs bounced off Rebound without leaving a mark. She sauntered toward Magnum, grinning. One shot caught her square in the eye. She batted her lashes, sending the slug whizzing back. It caught the edge of Magnum's sleeve and took a piece of his arm with it.

Magnum dropped to his knees and skidded to a stop at her feet. "Son of a bitch," he swore, dropping his empty revolvers. He clutched his arm and his knee, both of which bled through jagged tears. "These clothes were new!"

Rebound planted her hands on her hips and sneered down at him. "Finished? There's a reason they call me Rebound, pit stain. I send back anything you throw."

Gritting his teeth, Magnum lunged forward and grabbed Rebound's chest. "Rebound this, surfboard," he snarled. Tactile telekinesis tingled in his palms as he threw enough force into her chest to launch her thirty feet.

There was a split instant in which Magnum was smugly satisfied and groping a moderately attractive girl's breasts. Then the force he pushed into her slammed back into his hands, blasting him onto his back. He tumbled across the pavement and struck the half-grille of the Wagon, which broke against his lolling head.

Rebound smirked and tugged the strap of her tank top. "'Kay," she said playfully.

Queenie broke her charge to double back and help Magnum. As she turned, she felt a vice swallow her arm with tremendous pressure. She glanced back and saw that Pig had grasped her. His enormous hand covered her tree trunk forearm. His lumpy features spread into a grin.

"Where you goin', girlie? You 'n' me are gonna dance," he snorted.

Her insides squirmed with revulsion. "Fine. Let's swing," she said. Shifting her feet, Queenie swung her arm up and over her head, clasping Pig's hand with hers to carry him along for the ride. The blimpish Eight overshadowed her in a wide-eyed moment of surprise, and then cratered the street on her other side.

Chips of pavement sprayed them both while Pig laid on his back, staring up at Queenie. He grinned. "Nice. Now break," he grunted.

Queenie yelped as the vice grip on her arm contracted, crushing her muscle. Pig swung her up and over, just as she had to him, but let go halfway through. She flew high and far, and slammed into the post of a streetlight. The light tilted, its foundation cracking, as Queenie slid down the smooth metal pole. She flopped onto the ground.

Juice gathered an electrical tempest between his arms, ready to blast it into Pig and any other Eight stupid enough to stray into his line of fire. With Streetbeat charging through the Eights' midst, he couldn't afford to just let his wattage fall where it may. "Watch out, guys! I'll cook 'em all in one shot!" he bellowed.

A fireball drilled agony into Juice's shoulder. He staggered back, screaming, his containment suit vaporizing beneath the flame. The pain drove Juice onto his knees, where he doubled over and clutched the smoking hole in his suit.

Through tears and terror, he saw Pyre approaching. The lanky Eight drew another fireball between his hands. He tossed the dancing flame from hand to hand as he quipped, "So who's cookin' now, Casper? Now, open up and say—"

"**AAAAAAHHH**!" Juice flung his hand out with a scream. The motion made his shoulder howl with pain. He courted the pain, and married it into the pure electricity he thrust into Pyre. A biological lightning bolt burst from Juice's palm and through Pyre to light up the sky.

Pyre danced like a marionette ten feet into the air before the bolt released him. He fell to the ground with a sickening thud, his Eighty-Eight jacket smoldering in circles on his front and back. It was only seconds later that his chest began to rise and fall with ragged breath.

Smoke rose from all over Juice, tightening his scream into a squeak. He looked down at the blue energy arcing from the burning breach at his shoulder. With his containment suit broken, the voltage inside him was loosed to run rampant through him. That familiar hot ache that he had lived with his whole life, the inner blaze that his suit had quelled, returned in full force. Juice whimpered and curled into a ball.

With a flash, Blink appeared at Juice's side. He reached down to examine the burn on Juice's shoulder, but a shock chased his hand back before he could even touch the containment suit. "Oh, man," he murmured. "We have to get you out of here, buddy…"

A telltale giggling made him freeze. He looked around wildly, and spotted a pair of almond eyes peering at him from the sidewalk. The eyes leapt forward, carrying with them the rest of the little sundress girl. Her dark hair fluttered behind her as Spooky glided toward him with her arms outstretched, an otherworldly smile gracing her features.

Panicking, Blink teleported. The world around him changed in a wash of white light. When the light faded, he was on the other side of the street, sitting atop the steps of an old building.

He watched his fellow Streetbeat fight back. Guilt niggled his survival instincts, making him feel like he should be doing more. Humiliation kicked his pride squarely in his masculinity for running away from a tittering china doll.

Then he heard footsteps and giggling behind him, and whirled. It didn't seem possible. The air shimmered and revealed Spooky. She reached for him again. Where had she come from?

This time Blink jumped backwards, refusing to take his eyes off of the little girl. He fell to the bottom step, landing hard on his butt. Spooky stood on the top step and watched him cower in fear. Then the air shimmered again, swallowing her into nothingness. Her smile left last.

Blink's eyes darted, trying to find her. He thought she might also be a teleporter, like he was. But when he heard footsteps behind him again, and felt a cool presence on the hairs of his neck, he figured it out a second too late.

Icy lips kissed him right behind his ear, making him freeze. Blink tried to scream, but an immense pressure in his chest stopped his breathing altogether. He watched in horror as a pale arm extended from his chest at the center of the pain. A titter filled his ear. The misplaced hand waved to him while he convulsed in numbed shock at the arm sharing space with his lungs. It felt like years of fear and pain before he found the will to teleport around the arm.

Jason heard Blink's ragged cry, and grimaced. From the sound of things, his Streetbeat were on the low end of this fight. He wanted nothing more than to turn and help them, but even a second's indecision at that moment would mean his death.

"What's the matter, Hawke? You don't look like you havin' fun," said Krieg. He heaved his stolen blade at Jason, cutting empty air as the Streetbeat darted back out of the swing. "This is what you're all about, right? Fightin' the good fight?"

Jason never professed to be a master swordsman. He had learned on his own by swinging the sword until it felt right. Over the years and through countless fights, he had been taught several hard lessons about handling a blade. One of the first lessons he had learned was to not swing your sword like it was a baseball bat.

New to the blade, Krieg hadn't learned that lesson yet. Jason clutched his Bowie knife and resolved to teach the lesson to him. He timed Krieg's swing and, just as the tip of the blade passed his nose, leapt forward. Krieg's eyes bugged at the knife descending at him. He could neither block nor dodge, thanks to his heavy swing of the sword.

A blur tackled Jason. He bounced out of melee with Krieg and dropped his knife. Fists he could not see belted him in the arms and face over and over in the blink of an eye. He staggered and fell to a shoe being planted in his stomach.

Rush stood over Jason. She rubbed her bleeding knuckles. An uncertain look of anger crinkled in her bruised face. She winced visibly as Krieg strolled up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Like you always said, Hawke," Krieg gloated, and drew Rush roughly to his side. "The freaks win the fight. And looks like I found just the freaks to do it."

Wheezing, Jason turned over on his hands and knees. He jerked when Krieg kicked him hard in the stomach. Half-pretending, Jason collapsed onto his front and hid his arms beneath him while he searched through his jacket by touch.

"Y'know…" Jason choked, and spat a thick wad of blood. He looked back up at Krieg, and started again. "Y'know what else I always said?"

Krieg sniggered. "What?" he asked.

"You're a loser."

Jason covered his ears and rolled away. He revealed beneath him a weaponized disc with a yellow ring on the street. The disc began to vibrate as an unbearable, shrill noise filled the area. Krieg and Rush both clapped their hands to their heads and staggered back, their screams lost in the sound of the caterwauling disc.

The disc's charge spent itself in a few seconds. By the time it quieted, Jason was back on his feet and running, dizzy with ringing after-noise that made his whole head hurt. "Streetbeat!" he shouted, barely able to hear himself. "Split up and beat feet! Back to Sanctuary!"

Even while he shouted, he took stock of the battlefield. In less than two minutes, the Eighty-Eights had taken them apart. Stripwire was still in the Wagon, and Juice was lying ominously still. Everyone else Streetbeat and Eight alike, appeared as disoriented by the sonic disc as he felt. Except for Queenie, who was nowhere in sight.

"Blink! Grab Juice and Strip and poof straight back!" Jason bellowed. Glancing at Blink, he saw the blue teleporter mouth something, and heard only ringing. Jason naturally assumed it was some kind of complaint, and said, "No arguments. Move!"

Magnum was leaning against the hood of the Wagon. Shells jingled at his feet as he tried without success to shove them into the chambers of his revolver. Several paces away, Rebound had recovered from the noise, and was coming at him with murder in her eyes. Already sprinting, Jason overtook her and tossed a white-rimmed disc in front of her without stopping.

He grabbed Magnum by the arm and yanked him into a run, spilling the shells in Magnum's hands across the ground behind them. Magnum swore and staggered, and snarled, "What the hell?"

Counting down in his head, Jason closed his eyes and said, "Don't look."

Naturally, Magnum did the opposite, and glanced back over his shoulder. The disc in front of Rebound burst into pure radiance as she came upon it. Rebound shrieked into the overwhelming light. She covered her eyes too late, screaming obscenities, as the other Eighty-Eights did the same. In the ensuing flash, they failed to notice two more that emptied the field of Streetbeat.

Magnum's eyes burned with uselessness. He had to trust Jason's hand to pull him in the right direction while he stumbled. "God DAMN it!" he snapped, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand.

"Told you," Jason said, and dragged Magnum down an alley.

The light burned a few seconds more until the disc winked out. It took another moment before any of the Eights could see. Krieg dropped Jason's sword to massage his eyes into working again. When they did, they showed him a street with an empty, wheel-free station wagon, and a collection of groaning metahumans who wore his colors.

"No. NO!" Krieg screamed at the street. His head snapped around in vain. "Get back here, Hawke! **GET BACK HERE**!"

Rebound staggered, blinded the worst by her proximity to the disc. Her foot bumped into something soft and groaning. Looking down, she discovered Pyre at her feet. The charred circle on his chest still smoldered. His skin glistened waxily. "Jesus," she whispered, and knelt down. She touched the burn, and Pyre jolted in his sleep as if shocked.

Stooping, Krieg retrieved the broadsword. "Split up and start looking. I want Hawke found now," he ordered them.

"They really messed Pyre up. I think he needs a hospital," Rebound said.

"Get him on his feet and get looking." Krieg stalked toward the side of the street where he had last seen Jason. There were at least two alleys down which the Streetbeat could have retreated, assuming he hadn't let his blue freak poof him away.

Rush jogged after Krieg. She split her attention between his back and the sight of Pyre struggling to breathe. "Pyre is hurt," she insisted. "We should—"

His backhand spun her around. The bruises on her face barked in pain. As she staggered, Krieg caught her face in his grasp and squeezed her cheeks until her lips were pursed shut.

"You _should_ shut the hell up. You _should_ do what I say. You _SHOULD_ get your speedy ass out there an' run until you find Hawke, or until your little chicken legs fall off!" he spat. His eyes blazed, scorching her with manic hatred that chilled her very bones. "Nothing else matters, got it? Find Hawke. Find him and take him down!"

Rush managed a very weak nod. Krieg tossed her face aside, throwing her to the ground. He shouldered the broadsword and marched into one alley, leaving his Eights to look among one another.

Rebound began slapping Pyre awake while the rest drifted apart, picking different directions. Faster than them all, Rush lingered the longest. She could not break her stare from Pyre until Rebound's insistent glance chased her away.

Rush turned to run, and then jumped back in surprise at the sight of Spooky standing before her. The little girl grinned at Rush's startling as she held up a silvery circle she had found on the battlefield. Rush hesitantly took the device. Turning it over in her hands, she began to understand what Spooky had found, and realized how valuable it could be to their effort.

* * *

"_The Uptown region has become a scene of chaos and panic as the Titans' battle with the Tyrants continues to migrate,_" Hank McCoy said, gripping his microphone with white knuckles while the world behind him fell apart. People ran through the street, screaming, pouring between abandoned cars in the middle of the street. Smoke belched from the sides of skyscrapers through jagged grins carved into their sides. Beams of red and blue crisscrossed the sky overhead. Horns honked. People screamed. Glass shattered.

Hank shouted into his microphone to rise above the din. "_Police are scrambling to evacuate the area. But as the battlefield continues to shift, it becomes increasingly impossible to anticipate where this carnage will next—_"

A streak of black and copper crashed into the ground behind Hank. The earth quaked hard enough to knock the reporter to the ground. His camera operator remained standing and, trembling, captured the sight of Mammoth rising from the crater.

The enormous Tyrant caught sight of Hank and his crew. Gruesome intent glistened in his smile. Then he lost interest as a second streak, this one green, smashed a row of abandoned cars behind him.

A stegosaurus roared shrilly, tossing its spiked tail back. Its glossy green spinal plates rippled as it charged Mammoth. Mammoth grasped its head and tried to wrestle it to the ground while it drove him back, digging a trench with his planted feet. The stegosaurus then blurred and melted out of Mammoth's grasp to become a pterodactyl, whose claws grasped and threw Mammoth out of the camera's sight.

Safe inside Sanctuary, Patches watched the shaking webcast with his knees drawn to his chest. He sat at the command center's computers only because Jason wasn't around to chase him away. He watched the news because he was afraid, and because he wanted to see his guardians in action against the terrible Tyrants. Even in Patches' young mind, the plight of those metahuman menaces remained fresh.

Flashing light tore his eyes from the computer monitor. He saw Blink appear in the middle of Sanctuary amidst a shower of blue lightning. One of Blink's hands was wrapped in Stripwire's prosthetic, while the other touched Juice's containment suit. Blink's scream, already in progress, killed the ominous silence and drowned out the webcast.

Blink fell away from Juice's still form. The lightning vanished as soon as his fingers left the containment material. He hit the floor hard in a twitching heap, his eyes closed and his face fitfully blank.

Stripwire let go of him immediately. Aside from a bruised cut on his forehead and a mess of dried blood on his face, he appeared fine. It was hard for Patches to tell, as he had never seen Stripwire as anything but calm, aloof, and disinterested. Stripwire knelt and tested Blink's vitals as Patches dove from his chair and ran toward the arrived trio.

Without looking, Stripwire cautioned Patches, "Do not touch Juice. His containment suit has been breached. The natural voltage produced by his body could kill you."

Patches panted, looking between Juice and Blink. "Is—?"

"Blink survived contact with Juice long enough to teleport us back to Sanctuary. My arm insulated me from the current. I believe Blink will live, but I cannot ascertain the extent of the damage done to his body by the electricity, nor approximate when or if he will regain consciousness," Stripwire said brusquely. He let Blink's wrist fall limp from his grasp as he stood.

"What—?"

"We were waylaid by a group of metahuman Eighty-Eights. They disabled our vehicle and defeated us in combat. Jason ordered a retreat," explained Stripwire.

Tentacles protruded from his metal arm. They wrapped around Blink, leaving their ends loose to push him up from the floor. Stripwire walked the mechanical cocoon to the nearest bunk, where he laid Blink as gently as he could. Blink fidgeted and twitched as the cold metal unwrapped from his body.

Patches' eyes welled with tears as he examined the burn on Juice's shoulder. "Who…?" he murmured.

"The Eighty-Eights are a gang with chapters in many different cities throughout North America. The chapter in Jump City possessed a controlling interest in this territory prior to the formation of the Streetbeat."

The little boy stood at Juice's side, looking confused and afraid. He tried to hide it beneath the bill of his cap as he watched the pale Streetbeat struggle for breath. "But—"

Stalking back toward them, Stripwire said, "Please cease all further inquiry until such time as I have stabilized our situation."

He knelt by Juice's side, his tentacles already extending. Patches' soft sniffles made him pause and look up. He found fat, wobbly tears descending from underneath Patches' downturned cap bill.

Softening his tone by sixty-eight percent, Stripwire added, "Please see to Blink. I believe he would benefit from your attention. I will help Juice."

Nodding tearily, Patches ran from them, crossing the room with a stubby sprint. He knelt by Blink's bedside and grasped the blue boy's hand, holding it tightly with both of his.

Stripwire cocooned Juice in insulated tentacles and brought him to the workshop area in the corner. There, he cleared all of his half-finished projects with a sweep of his free arm, sending delicate electronics crashing to the floor. He laid Juice upon the stained wooden tabletop and carefully unwrapped him.

A momentary wave of dizziness almost made Stripwire fall on top of Juice. As this would have fried his cybernetics and killed him instantly, he resolved to ignore such impulses, no matter how concussed he felt.

He pulled from the workbench drawers some basic first aid supplies, as well as an old, crusty, brown leather glove with a lightning bolt markered on the back. He pulled the glove over his fleshy hand and then set to work on Juice's burn. His metal finger became small shears that cut the edge of the containment suit from Juice's skin. Antiseptic gel blurped from a tube, looking like blue honey and smelling like a hospital. Stripwire carefully spread the gel over Juice's burn.

"This sudden resurgence of Eighty-Eight activity is highly irregular," Stripwire mused aloud as he dressed Juice's wound. "They attacked without provocation in a location that appeared to be arbitrary, neutral ground that offered no intrinsic advantage. Nothing was gained from their victory, save for our potential demise, which could conceivably have been achieved more easily by targeting us as individuals. The only advantage to attacking us en masse at an undetermined location is that—"

Sanctuary's heavy doors rattled with impact. Patches screamed and cowered by Blink's beside, still holding Blink's hand. Without pausing in his efforts to treat Juice, Stripwire shifted his attention to the doors just as another blow struck from outside. The blows developed into a slow, rhythmic pounding that shook the doors. Other impacts joined the rhythm as rocks and bottles struck the lowest of Sanctuary's armored windows.

Unfazed, Stripwire wirelessly connected to the network controlling Sanctuary's unseen higher functions. His sight stepped aside as he fed some of their precious generator power into the security camera network outside, which provided him with a dozen vantage points of the grounds.

None of what he saw improved his take on the situation. Sanctuary was surrounded by a young army clad in Eighty-Eight colors. Some carried guns. Others, bats or clubs. Still others, knives, long and wickedly sharp. A quartet of Eights had chopped the top off a telephone pole, and were ramming it into Sanctuary's doors.

Stripwire shifted his vision back into his eyes. He paused, staring down at Juice while the sounds of the siege struck Sanctuary over and over. Their generator was only meant to power the lights and amenities for a short while, and did not possess nearly enough energy to fuel the defensive measures Stripwire had designed for just such an occasion. Without power, it was only a matter of time before the Eights broke in.

Suddenly, Krieg's strategy made more sense. And Stripwire was the only Streetbeat left to protect Sanctuary.

"This is an unwelcome predicament," he noted.

* * *

"You suck," Magnum said. "I can't possibly say it clear enough or loud enough. You really, really suck."

He followed Jason through Jump Central's back alleys. The teens paused at each street, making certain that there weren't any Eights waiting for them. Though the noise of panic and the glow of fire grew in the distance, Jump Central remained eerily silent. Its denizens knew when to duck and cover. This unfortunately made the two Streetbeat stand out, particularly with Magnum's carrying voice.

Jason hugged the corner of a building to check outside the alley. So far as he could tell, the long shadows hid nothing that would hurt them. He wasn't taking any more chances, though. "Let's hole up here for a minute," he said, and slid back into the alley.

Magnum leaned on the wall next to him while he rubbed his face. "You know why you suck, right?" asked Magnum, reloading his revolvers. "You suck because when Krieg shows up out of the blue with his little Wannabeat squad, you freeze up like a schoolgirl at a spelling bee. You're a little schoolgirl in a frilly little dress. That's why you suck."

Face cradled in his hands, Jason sighed out his frustration. It came right back as he sucked a breath through his fingers. "Shut up, Mag," he growled.

"Seriously, way to go. I wouldn't expect a brave strategy like 'run away' from the guy who single-handedly cleared these jokers from Central in the first place. And way to keep Strip and Juice out of the line of fire, by the way," sneered Magnum.

Jason's punch knocked Magnum's jaw three feet back. Magnum's body was forced to follow, and fell to ground with pinwheeling arms.

Magnum lay on his stomach until his eyes uncrossed. The first thing he saw was Jason's shoe tapping the ground by his face. Looking up, he found Jason's disgruntled expression waiting above him.

"You know you had that coming, right?" Jason asked. He extended his hand, which Magnum took with a grumble, and helped him up.

Silver flashed between them. Magnum's revolver barrel pressed into Jason's throat. Its chamber whirred, blurring as it spun. A light tremor of kinesis buzzed against the soft skin beneath Jason's chin.

Cold, furious detachment burned in Magnum's face. Jason returned it in kind as Magnum told him, "You don't punch me."

The whirring chamber filled the stillness of their shared glare. Then, slowly, Jason lifted his hands. "Okay," he said. "Sorry."

Nodding and smirking, Magnum lowered his rusted gun. Its chamber quelled. "Good," he said. "Now—"

Jason's punch knocked him clear across the alley and slammed him into the opposite wall. He bounced off, staggered back, and then was shoved back into the wall from behind. The stars in his eyes sucked the strength from his legs as those shoving hands threw him to the ground.

When his vision cleared, Magnum looked up from the ground. Jason loomed above him with the revolver clutched in his whitened fist. Apoplectic gravity hung in Jason's tight features. "If you ever pull a gun on me again, you're out. Period," Jason said, his voice low and steady.

The throbbing pain in Magnum's jaw reminded him that he still had another revolver. But Jason's smoldering words made him reconsider. This time, when Jason offered him a helping hand, Magnum took it without incident.

They stood and glared at each other a few seconds more for machismo's sake. Then Magnum asked in a cold and clinical tone, "So now what? Do we go back and fight, or did you also lose your balls when Krieg took your sword?"

Jason drew his communicator with a grunt. "Blink got Strip and Juice back to Sanctuary," he said. There was no way of knowing for sure if they'd actually managed to get away, but he had to hold out hope in their deteriorating situation. "That still leaves Queenie missing. We find her first, and then we double-back to Sanctuary to meet up with everybody else."

"So you can get the tea party ready for Krieg?" cooed Magnum.

Flipping the communicator, Jason quipped, "Yeah. Tea, crumpets, and a boot so far up his ass that he'll taste my athlete's foot for a week."

"Refreshing."

"Shut up for a second." Jason frowned and smacked the side of his communicator. The device's display showed their signal and three others at Sanctuary, with a depressing amount of distance between them. A fourth signal sped across the map so quickly that it must have been a glitch. But Queenie's signal was nowhere to be found. "I can't find her. See if you can pick her up, I think mine is going screwy."

Magnum patted his pockets, frowning. "Huh. Where did I put…?"

The speeding signal ghost on Jason's communicator's display blinked at a blinding pace toward their location on the tiny map. Realization hit Jason too late as he looked up. "Mag—"

A hurricane slammed between them, knocking them apart. Jason fell back against the wall as he watched the hurricane blur into a tornado around Magnum. Invisible blows batted Magnum to and fro faster than he could react. By the time Jason regained his balance, the tornado let battered Magnum drop and turned its attention to him.

As the black wind engulfed him, Jason threw his foot out wildly. He felt a jarring impact hammer his leg, transforming the wind into a flailing girl that crashed face-first onto the ground. She skidded and gonged the base of a garbage dumpster with her face. Groaning, she fell limp, and let a clutched communicator roll from her hand.

Jason scooped up the rogue communicator and examined it. With a scowl, he tossed it at Magnum. It bounced off the groaning teen's chest and into his lap as he sat up. "Found it," Jason said caustically. "Now let's move. If Speedy Gonzales here found us with that trace, you can bet she's not alone."

A wide shadow swallowed Jason's. As he turned around, he felt the ground pulsing beneath him. The tremoring grew as Pig ran at him from behind with his massive arms spread wide. "Solid bet, pipsqueak!" gruffed Pig.

Instinct guided Jason's hand behind his shoulder, where he grasped at empty air. He looked back and saw the top of his empty sheath. With Pig all but on top of him, he could only roll his eyes and mutter, "Good one, idiot."

Pig's arm hammered his chest with the force of a small truck. The blow lifted Jason off his feet and into the wall, where he donated his inertia to the bricks and received a full-body bruising as thanks. Pig caught him against the wall with a hand that engulfed his chest. His ribs creaked as Pig grinningly pressed his sternum toward his spine.

Fetid breath spilled over Jason's grimace as Pig leaned close, pushing his grin upon the struggling Streetbeat. "Wanna lay odds on how dead you'll be in the next second?"

The last of Jason's breath escaped in a venomous hiss of, "Two to one!"

Jason's hands fell back into the long sleeves of his denim jacket and pulled the shivs hidden inside. He shanked the sides of Pig's arms, twisting the stumpy blades in the Eight's fat flesh. Pig had rolls of fat and muscle protecting him, but he still had nerves in his skin. He squalled and dropped Jason, clutching his bleeding arm.

The bloody shivs arced as Jason leapt up. He clapped the taped, blunted handles of the shivs together with Pig's temples in between. The impact rolled Pig's eyes back into his head. He dropped as Jason landed, piling into a mountainous heap at the Streetbeat's feet.

Panting, Jason braced himself on his knees. His chest ached, and his back felt like a knotted minefield of bruises.

Then, above the ringing in his ears, he heard Krieg's voice, and looked up to find him standing at the mouth of the alley. "Look at you. Kickin' girls, stabbin' freaks. It's just like old times," Krieg said. He leaned on Jason's broadsword like it was a cane, grinning madly.

Jason shot a glance over his shoulder. Rush had gotten back up, and was woozily standing between him and the other end of the alley. Magnum was only now getting back to his feet. He looked worse for wear than Rush. And Pig was already stirring , shaking off the blow to his head.

Surrounded on all sides, Jason swore at himself and made a bitter choice. He grabbed the scruff of Pig's neck and pressed a shiv to his throat. Pig stiffened at the sharpened metal puckering the puffy skin of his neck. His eyes ballooned as Jason snarled, "Not another step, Krieg. Call your guys off, or I swear I'll stick him here and now."

Tenuous bravado held Jason's face together. He used all of his concentration to keep his scowl and his hand steady as he stared down Krieg's unyielding smile. With a wave, Krieg said, "Go ahead. But you an' me both know that you would've done that years ago if you had the stones for it."

"I'm not playing, Krieg!" Jason bellowed. He pressed harder. Blood dribbled from beneath the tip of his shiv. Pig gasped and trembled.

Jason's bluff fell to pieces as Krieg sauntered forward, swinging the sword to and fro. "You want some help? He don't matter to me. Always plenty of freaks in Jump, right? Rush," he called to his Eight behind Jason. "Take him down."

"Krieg!" Pig howled.

Rush hesitated. She glanced first at Krieg, and then at Pig. Her lip trembled as tears wobbled in her eyes.

Krieg drew closer still. Jason gritted his teeth as he chewed himself out for getting himself into such a stupid situation. Now he only had two choices. He had to either give up or make good on his threat, and either way would end in his death.

Pain exploded in the back of his head, making the decision for him. His shiv fell, forgotten, as he tilted forward and fell next to Pig. Pinpricks of light burned Jason's eyes as he rolled over and saw his attacker.

Magnum tapped the butt of his revolver into his palm and grinned down at Jason. "Say, Krieg? Is that offer still good?"

Rage cleansed the ache and fatigue from Jason's body. He leapt up with hands grasping for Magnum's throat. His fingers fell short when Krieg stepped on his chest, stomping him back onto the ground, where he struck his head on the pavement. He rasped and lolled, coughing a scream as Krieg's boot pressed down upon him.

Krieg and Magnum exchanged identical grins. Behind them, Pig and Rush approached, reluctant to cross the fury twisting in Jason's face. "See?" Krieg asked, slapping Magnum on the shoulder. "What did I tell you, Hawke? Always plenty of good freaks in Jump."

"Magnum!" Jason snarled hoarsely.

His treacherous friend shrugged. "Sorry, Jase. Like I said, it sounds like a pretty good deal. Hell, the price is right."

And then Magnum's shoe crossed Jason's face, kicking his world out of sight.

**To Be Continued**


	15. Streetbeat: For Life

**

* * *

Streetbeat  
For Life**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

Jason awoke to find a dim, drab blur waiting in his eyes and a lump of pain masquerading as his head. He ignored the latter and concentrated on the former. Doing so only made the lump hurt worse. By the time his vision cleared, he was certain that the view of his surroundings wasn't worth the throbbing it had cost him.

He was behind a desk in a claustrophobically small office. Large windows to his left were boarded with sheets of plywood. Another miniscule window sat in the wall to his right, affording him a view of a brick wall outside. On the other side of the desk, he saw another chair wedged between filing cabinets. Fluorescent light buzzed overhead as it yellowed the room.

The office churned Jason's memory. His stomach did likewise with sympathy. When he tried to stand, he felt sharp pressure in his wrists. They had been zip-tied to his chair's metal armrests. Tugging experimentally, he found the ties to be more than enough to keep him there. He snarled and kicked the desk in frustration.

A moment later, the office door opened. His world flashed red with rage as Krieg leaned in. "Well, good morning, ol' buddy!" Krieg said, and grinned. "Nice nap?"

Jason growled as Krieg strolled in. "You must be dumber than I thought, Krieg. You broke the understanding. Maiko is gonna kill you when he finds out you were starting shit in Central. And that's if I don't do it first," he said.

Krieg laughed and spun Jason's chair with a kick. "You gonna roll over me in your new wheels there, Hawke? I ain't too worried. And Maiko ain't gonna say shit."

He grabbed the back of Jason's chair to push him out the door. Jason clenched his teeth to restrain himself. He could probably take a decent bite out of Krieg's arm, but that likely would get him killed sooner than it helped him. So he continued to play the part of the acerbic prisoner, and said, "So why am I still alive? Or do you still get girly when you see blood?"

"Y'know, I figured the same thing," Krieg said. "And I was all set to gut you, when my newest Eight steps in with a better idea."

A fist of hate grabbed Jason's innards and clenched them tight as Krieg wheeled him out onto the main floor of the Eights' warehouse. Three teenagers waited for them there, one of whom raised a bottle of vodka to salute Jason's arrival.

"Hey, Jase! Look, they have a bar. You never let us have a bar. Oh yeah, how's the head?" Magnum asked grinningly.

Jason watched the liquor spill from Magnum's mouth down his shirtfront with mounting rage. The ties on his wrists creaked against his desire to throttle the arrogance out of the ex-Streetbeat. "This was your idea?" he asked tightly.

Magnum looked to either side, smirking at the disapproval and worry he found in Pig's and Rush's respective looks. "Don't think this was some kind of master plan, Jason. I didn't get the idea to switch sides until your genius calls landed us in that mess back there." With a shrug, he added, "Them's the breaks."

Deep dissatisfaction wrinkled in Pig's brow. He folded his arms and grunted, "But it was your bright idea to keep Hawke alive. I don't like it."

"You don't like it because it isn't deep fried and wrapped in bacon," Magnum retorted. He tapped the mouth of his bottle to his temple, and insisted, "Think, fatty. If you kill him in some alley with nobody around, no one will believe it. This 'nilla honky has a lot of cred going for him. You wanna use that, so you gotta make a show out of it."

Krieg slapped the back of Jason's head, lighting fiery protest in the lump growing there. "He's right, Pig. Takin' out Hawke's gotta be a big deal if we wanna keep Central all for ourself."

Pig snorted. "I dunno. I think maybe Maggie here doesn't want us squishin' Hawke because he ain't as Eight as he says he is now. Nobody don't switch teams just like that, Krieg. I say he's fakin'," he said, glaring at Magnum.

"That's 'cause you don't know Magnum like I do," Krieg retorted, and nodded to the smiling, slightly drunk new Eight. "We go a long way back, Mag an' me. Only thing he cares about is himself. Long as we're his best deal, he'll work for us. And right now, we're the best deal, ain't we, Mag?"

Krieg shoved Jason hard. The chair rolled across the floor and into Magnum, who stopped it with a foot on Jason's knee. Leaning on his propped leg, Magnum lowered his sneer toward Jason. "Hell, I might have switched just to stick it to this asshole myself," he said right in Jason's face. "All his self-righteous bullshit, and his nancy-pansy rescues. All this time, I'm lookin' for a reason to leave…"

Closer still, his eighty-proof breath made Jason cringe. "And then I figure out I don't even have a reason to stay," he finished, and punctuated the revelation with a belch.

Magnum kicked hard, launching Jason's chair across the floor. With a derisive laugh, he pulled his revolver and pushed a slug at the spinning captive. The shot nicked the sleeve of Jason's jacket, drawing a smear of red into the denim. Jason clenched his jaw and swallowed his curse at the bite of the slug while Magnum laughed.

Krieg pushed Magnum's whirring revolver out of line with their captive. "Easy, Mag. Like you said, we gotta make a show outta him. Right? Nobody's doubtin' you," he said, aiming the edge in his voice at Pig.

Scowling back at him, Pig retorted, "He still gotta be initiated, same as everybody else."

The revolver chamber spun again as Magnum hefted it for show. "I still got five more here, pork pie, and I could probably hit your fat ass by closing my eyes and shooting in the other direction. Any of that Little Debbie made you bulletproof yet, or does it just chase away the sad?"

"Enough!" Krieg shouted them apart, walking between them and up to Jason. He spun Jason around to face him, grabbing right where Magnum's bullet had struck. Jason hissed and winced, but kept his glare intact through sheer force of hate. "Okay, Hawke. Make this easy. Where did Queenie go?"

Jason blinked the tears out of his eyes. "Queenie? How should I know? I haven't seen her since you sucker-punched us back in the street."

"I ain't playin', Hawke," Krieg barked. "I got all my guys down at your place, just itchin' to do some damage. They peeped in your window, and everyone's there 'cept Queenie. Now I wanna know where she'd go. So spit it out."

Jason spat a wad of pinkish spittle onto Krieg's shoe. He got a backhand for his bravado.

Rush stepped forward as Krieg's hand crossed Jason's face again and again. "M-Maybe he doesn't know," she said.

Grabbing Jason's face, Krieg shot back at Rush, "Nobody knows Queenie better 'n Hawke. Bestest friends, ain't ya?" he asked Jason, twisting Jason's head.

Gritting his teeth, Jason grunted, "I don't know where she went, but I…" He trailed off with a groan as Krieg's finger pressed upon the lump behind his head. "…I know what I would say if I did."

Taking a deep breath, he coughed up a wad of phlegmy disgust. It spat straight and true, and splashed on Krieg's cheek. Krieg dragged the back of his hand across his face with a grimace. Then he grabbed Jason's sleeve and plunged his thumb into the nick left by Magnum's shot.

Prickling fire engulfed Jason's arm. He threw his head back and screamed. Tears streamed from his eyes as he kicked and struggled, unable to break the ties at his wrist. Krieg's voice wafted across the expanse of pain, sounding distant and hollow. "Fine, Hawke. I'll find her myself. Right after I bust into your little house and knife everybody inside myself with your own sword."

Krieg drew his thumb from Jason's arm and wiped it on Jason's jacket. "Stick around a while, Hawke. I'll be back for you." He walked back to the office, where Jason's broadsword leaned against the wall, balanced on its tip. Swiping it up, Krieg said, "Mag, Pig, let's go."

"What about me? And what about Hawke?" Rush asked, speeding to block Krieg's path to the door. "We can't just leave him here alone—"

Krieg shoved her aside, staggering her. "That's why you're staying, bitch. You hear me tell you to come? Course somebody has to stay with Hawke," he snapped. "You don't let him outta your sight for a second. He don't move. Got it?"

Rush stammered, "G-Got it."

Krieg's scowl cowed her back. It became a smirk as he turned to Jason, and said, "I gotta run. Don't wanna be late to church."

Magnum guffawed. He raised his bottle of vodka in a last toast to Jason, and said, "Awesome. Catch you around, Jase. I'll give Strip your regards." He took one last swig, and then capped and stowed the bottle inside his jacket. Slapping Krieg on the back, Magnum said, "C'mon, I think I can help you with your door problem. I have an 'in' with these guys."

Scowling through his pain and fear, Jason yelled after them, "Good luck, assholes. My three toughest guys are sitting in Sanctuary right now, kicking back until your short-bus rejects manage to outsmart a door. They're gonna use your face to sponge up whatever's left of your guys when you get there."

* * *

Juice's awareness swam back to him in nauseous increments. He awoke on Stripwire's workbench with no clear notion of how he had made it all the way back to Sanctuary. More pressing to him was the hot, awful coal that had replaced his shoulder, which was burning into the rest of his body with steady agony.

He found his hand and lifted it to touch the burn. A gloved grasped his wrist before he could reach for the bandaged breach in his containment suit. The rough brown leather chafed his chalky skin. Dizzily, Juice focused his eyes, and caught sight of the lightning bolt drawn on the back of the glove.

"The zap gloves," he groaned, and relaxed his arm. "I hate those things."

Stripwire lowered Juice's hand back to his side. "An unfortunate necessity," he explained. "Your containment suit—"

With a weak wave, Juice said, "Yeah, yeah, I get it." He tried to lift his head. It didn't go well for him. Before he flopped back onto the table, he saw Sanctuary's emptiness, and heard pounding coming from their grand doors. "What's with the drum solo outside?" he asked.

"That would be the thirty-two members of the Eighty-Eights currently gathered outside. Their attempts at entry have thus far failed. I do not know how long this will be the case," said Stripwire. He bent to reach underneath the table. The sound of rustling metal filtered up through the tabletop.

"Gatecrashers. Great," groaned Juice. "What about everybody else?"

Stripwire glanced across the sprawling room to one of the lower level bunks. Blink lay in the bottom bed, his blue complexion waxen against the white of the sheets. The bedridden boy showed signs of stirring, much to the delight of Patches, who clutched his hand still. "Blink teleported you and me to Sanctuary. Patches is seeing to him. Jason, Queenie, and Magnum remain unaccounted for."

His unseen rummaging continued. Juice listened for a moment, feeling guilt creep into the parts of him that didn't feel like fire. He had let some banger get a lucky shot in, and now he was worse than useless. He was a liability to his friends when they needed him the most. "You worried?" he asked Stripwire.

"Worry is a frivolity in which I do not indulge."

Stripwire stood. A fraying leather bandoleer hung from his shoulder, festooned with grenades cobbled from aerosol cans. Some kind of patchwork cannon rested between his hands, both of which he required to lift it. It was a wonder Stripwire could lift such a cannon, and a greater wonder that such a shoddy looking device could actually fire anything. But given Stripwire's technical prowess, Juice had no doubts that whatever the cannon fired, it did so in sufficient volume and power to cause serious damage.

The cannon rattled the table as Stripwire set it near Juice's feet. Juice goggled his cyborg friend in confusion, and asked, "Strip? What the hell are you doing? What is all this?"

Circling the table, Stripwire approached a metal cabinet set against the wall. His mechanical finger sprouted a key, which he used to unlock the cabinet. The opening doors revealed inside an array of devices shaped to look like human parts. There were bags that functioned as kidneys, and repurposed parts that came together to form a crude stomach. There were legs sculpted out of pistons. And on one door hung a rack of left arms, all of them crafted out of heavy metal.

Stripwire selected the thickest, heaviest of the arms. Taking it back to the workbench, he explained, "I intend to exit Sanctuary and engage the force that is currently—"

"Are you crazy?" snapped Juice.

Stripwire's mechanical forearm clacked. He pulled the stiffened appendage from its socket and set it aside. "No," he said, and lifted the new, armored arm to his elbow. It connected with another clack. Stripwire tested it by wiggling his fingers, which were now blocky and segmented.

Sharp pain protested in Juice's shoulder as he rolled to his side to yell at Stripwire. "You can't take that many guys by yourself, Strip. They're gonna kill you."

"I know," said Stripwire. He examined his replacement arm, and said, "Without power to our defenses, it is only a matter of time until the Eighty-Eights breach Sanctuary. Blink cannot evacuate you in your and his injured states. The last logical course of action is to stall our attackers until such a time when Jason and the others return."

Bile churned in the back of Juice's throat. "Even if they do come back, you'll still be dead. Don't be stupid, Strip."

Stripwire lifted his new arm and sighted an imaginary Eight with his palm. "Yes. I will. But your chances of survival will dramatically increase." He dropped his arm and turned back to his work.

As Stripwire collected his tabled gun, Juice rolled back in a huff. His blurred gaze rolled back toward the command center. Its emptiness struck him hard. If only Jason were here, or Queenie. They would think of something besides a suicidal charge. He wanted to, but he could hardly think, and Stripwire was too stubborn to argue with even on a good day. Juice felt more useless than that stupid, noisy, puttering generator that kept their lights running and little else.

Generator…

"Strip!" Juice sat up, and immediately regretted it. He groaned and swayed, catching himself with his hand against the tabletop as Stripwire turned around. Dizzy, Juice said, "Hook me into the power grid. I can kick-start the defenses—"

"I considered such an option," Stripwire admitted. "However, without your containment suit, such an electrical discharge could be life-threatening, particularly in your current condition."

"Yeah, but it would work," insisted Juice. He swung his legs over the table's edge. The pain in his shoulder drew crackling tears to his eyes. His head swam in gelatin, making him reel back and catch himself again.

Stripwire regarded his friend, who cried tears of sparks and could barely sit up. "You are in a mild state of shock. You are weak, vulnerable to infection, and require rest. I will not allow you to risk your life."

Through his teeth, Juice retorted, "So why should I let you risk yours?"

Interminable reason made Stripwire's words cold. "Simple numbers. With a functioning containment suit, your projected life expectancy is perfectly average. Scientific progress will doubtlessly improve your quality of life further. My own life expectancy, even taken under the best circumstances, is significantly shorter."

The argument shocked Juice silent. He struggled for something to say, some way of refuting the admission. "Strip…"

Stripwire lifted his goggles. The crude ocular implants he had fashioned himself whirred softly as they focused on Juice, their lenses glimmering in the harsh light. "The condition deteriorating my body cannot be cured. It cannot even be diagnosed. Regardless of cybernetic replacements, I am going to die relatively soon. Within the next three years, if my projections are accurate." He lowered his goggles, and concluded, "Therefore, the risk should be mine. The loss will bear less statistical impact."

Time waited with uncomfortable reverence of their stare. Then it interrupted them with the presence of Blink, who limped into the workshop area with Patches under his arm to help him. "Um, guys? Just a heads up, but I don't want to suicide to save us. Just puttin' that out there."

"The door's'll hold them a little longer," Juice said, glaring at Stripwire. "Let's wait until we absolutely have to before we do anything stupid. Jason might come back before then."

Patches nodded eagerly, and looked to the beating door. "Sure he will! Jason'll come back to save us! I know he will!"

* * *

Jason sat in his chair, rocking its wheels back and forth in frustrated boredom. The zip-ties at his wrists prevented his hands from doing anything except hurting, which they did with gusto. His head throbbed steadily in the front and back. The gadgetry and weaponry from his jacket had been removed and whisked away to parts unknown. Krieg probably had them, along with his sword.

He was good and screwed.

"Hey," he said to his captor. "You got any aspirin? Painkillers? My head feels like it's trying to freaking explode."

Rush sat twenty feet away from him, straddling a folding metal chair. With anyone else, Jason might've been able to work with that distance to escape. But he had seen the way she moved. Twenty feet was nothing to her. She stared at him in wide-eyed silence, resting her chin on her folded arms on the back of the chair.

Rolling his eyes, Jason said, "Oh, come on. Krieg said to watch me, not let me suffer. Not that he'd mind, anyway. But have a heart. It's like gnomes are digging out of my skull."

She neither moved nor spoke. Her purple-ringed eyes shifted in time with the pivoting of his chair.

"Rush, right? That's what Krieg called you. You look a little tense. Is this your first kidnapping?" he asked, keeping his voice light. "Relax, you're doing fine. You didn't even fall for the aspirin trick. I was probably gonna bite your fingers off, or something like that. Lotta blood. Messy."

Still nothing. He noticed her pallor turn green, but otherwise she remained stiff. Her muscles were locked, with her legs wrapped around the chair legs. She was tensing herself so he couldn't see her tremble.

Jason looked to the side to hide his smile. He forcibly sobered his features as he turned back. His gaze leveled into hers, piercing her false courage with the real deal. Then he kicked his legs up suddenly, and shouted, "BOO!"

Rush bolted from her chair. Her feet caught in the chair's legs. Yelping, she tripped onto the floor, dragging the chair on top of her as she tried to organize her limbs. She kicked the folding chair off of her and stood. Embarrassment darkened her face as she met Jason's raucous laughter with a glare.

"That wasn't funny," she said.

"Hey, I'm a dead man. I gotta get my kicks somewhere," he said between laughs.

Grumbling, Rush reset her chair. She fell into it with folded arms. "Yeah, well, you won't have anything to laugh about when Krieg gets back."

That only made Jason laugh harder, though by this point he was no longer amused. He wanted to unbalance Rush, to possibly create an opportunity. "Krieg won't say much of anything. Once Maiko finds out he has Eights in Central, he's gonna be eating boot. Maiko and I had an understanding. Krieg broke it. That's gonna mean hell for him."

Rush frowned. "Who's Maiko?"

"Maiko. Haven't you met him yet? He's your boss," Jason said.

She shook her head. "Krieg's the boss. I've never heard of any Maiko."

Jason's laughter quelled. He kept his face carefully neutral as he asked, "Krieg is running the whole Eight show? Not just this little hit squad of his?"

The question drew her brows together. "Yes. Why is that so important to you? I don't even understand why you care. I don't understand why Krieg cares about you! Out of all you Central freaks, you're the weakest one!" she spat.

He stared at her for a disconcerting moment. The righteous venom drained from her glare as she deflated under his stare and fell back into her seat. "Freak, huh? Weird, coming from someone who can run like you do," he said.

Rush avoided his eyes. "I know what I am. Doesn't mean anything," she muttered.

She jolted upright when she heard his wheels rolling closer. Jason awkwardly walked his chair toward her. His tied hands lifted entreatingly. "Relax. I'm not going anywhere," he said. Up close, he studied the dark bruises mottling her face. The attention made Rush squirm. "You're new. Just initiated?"

"Last week," she said without thinking. She stopped and glared, wondering when his taunting would begin. But Jason merely sat with a neutral expression. He seemed attentive, even interested. "Krieg made me do it twice," she began again, hesitantly this time.

Jason nodded. "Krieg was always big on 'loyalty through pain.' Bruises for love. No offense, but you don't seem like the type."

"I'm not," she blurted. Again, she wanted to kick herself for admitting anything to her prisoner. But now that she had opened them, her floodgates refused to close. "I had nowhere else to go. The Eights took me in. Took care of me."

"…'cause your family wouldn't," Jason said. It wasn't an accusation. His voice rang heavy with experience. "Was it because you're a meta?"

She trembled with memory. "It wasn't like that. My Grampa loved me. He used to call me his 'Li'l Whizzer.' Always told me it was a gift. That I was a gift."

"What happened to him?" Jason asked softly.

Her eyes misted. "The robot attack. Those black and red robots were marching through the neighborhood. They went berserk. There was fire everywhere and…" Her voice cracked. "The building was going. He told me to run, run as fast as I can. I wanted to take him, but I couldn't lift… So I did what he said. And…"

Jason bowed his head. "What about the rescue crews? Didn't they do anything?"

She sniffed. "You know how many people were kicked to the curb after the attack. I didn't have nobody else but Grampa. I had to find food somewhere. So I squatted wherever I could. Ate what I could find. And then…"

"Then Krieg found you," he finished. "He saw what you could do, and he snatched you up." A dry, derisive chuckle cracked his throat, making Rush look up with a start. "Reminds me of the first time the Eights tried recruiting metas."

Wiping her eyes, Rush said, "Krieg's done this before?"

Another chuckle, this one bitter. "Ha. Krieg couldn't come up with anything on his own. He's just copying the real asshole who came up with the idea years ago. Another Eight that came on board a little before he did."

"That Maiko guy?"

Jason shook his head. "One of Maiko's enforcers. The guy got the idea to recruit a bunch of metas from the street. Make 'em Eights. Use their powers…use 'them' to muscle the other gangs out of the city. This was before the Titans showed up, before more metas were moving into town. Nobody much liked them back then."

Rush's lip curled as she looked down at herself. "Not like that's changed," she muttered. Frowning, she added, "So what happened? Krieg made this freak squad sound like his new light bulb. Didn't it work back then?"

"The enforcer took Krieg and a bunch of others to track down their first recruit. She was kind of like you, only not quite as…willing."

The implication grew in Rush's eyes. "What happened to her?" she asked.

Jason smiled grimly. "He tried to break her. Starved her. Beat her. Yelled in her face until he was hoarse. Called her a freak the whole way through. He made her life a living hell for over a month trying to make her Eight."

"Did she break?"

Shadowy movement teased the upper edge of Jason's sight. High above in the cracked skylight, he caught a glimpse of a shape skirting the edge of the glass. He forced his face straight and his gaze level as he said, "She wouldn't. Couldn't. No matter what he did, she didn't give in. In the end, the guy let her go. And she broke his jaw for all the trouble."

Rush leaned forward, captivated. "What happened to her? He didn't kill her, did he?"

The shape filled the skylight. Jason couldn't help but smile. "A lot of stuff happened in between," he said, "But the story basically ends where she busts in here and beats the shit out of you."

His sinister smile startled Rush back. She screamed and jumped when the skylight behind her shattered. A dark shape fell amidst a rain of glass, and landed in a crouch a few paces from the Eight and her captive. The shape stood, becoming the furious visage of a Streetbeat who towered over Rush.

"Knock-knock," Queenie uttered, and cracked her knuckles.

Rush panicked. She became a blur that surrounded Queenie, punching and kicking, a hurricane of blows. Queenie flinched at the machine-gun fists brushing her. Then she swept her arm hard through the blur. Her backhand met flesh and bone at tremendous speed, transforming the blur back into Rush, who sailed off Queenie's knuckles. The Eight crashed ten yards away, rolling until she struck the far wall.

Queenie turned her disgusted attentions to Jason. "Look at this mess of trouble you dumped all over us with your hero nonsense. I told y'all. I told y'all!" she snapped.

"Glad to see you too, Limpi. Your ears must have been burning," Jason said, beaming.

"Don't you 'Limpi' me," she snapped. "And look at you. You got shot! Don't matter what, if I'm not around, you wind up discombobulated all over. Runnin' off, pickin' fights, playin' hero…you got two hearts and no brains, and it's gonna get you killed one day!"

Her fingers broke the ties at Jason's wrists. He stood and stretched, favoring the arm with a chunk missing. His grin didn't dull, not even as he discovered a dozen new hurts he hadn't felt while sitting. "How'd you find me?" he asked.

Queenie pulled two identical communicators from her pockets. "I found one of these outside in the dumpster. It was open and runnin'. Where is everybody?"

"Back at Sanctuary, which is where Krieg is heading right now." The Eight's name twisted in Jason's lips. "C'mon. We need to get there fast."

"What about her?" Queenie asked, nodding to the insensate lump of Rush on the floor.

Jason paused for a second's thought. "Forget her. We've got bigger worries."

As Queenie followed him out of the warehouse, she noticed his empty back. "What happened to your sword?" she asked.

Scowling, Jason shoved the old door off its hinges. "That's one of the worries." _One of the small ones_, he thought miserably.

* * *

The thick doors splintered more, bowing inward as a makeshift battering ram struck them again. Twilight flashed in the brief gap between the doors before they bent shut again. That gap grew incrementally with each blow from the ram. Soon the gap would no longer spring shut. The doors would burst, and Sanctuary would be breached.

Three steps behind the doors, Stripwire stood watch with his cannon slung under his shoulder. His goggles glinted in the intermittent twilight. Implacable calm painted his face in smooth shades of gold made pale in the old magnesium lighting. As the doors deteriorated, his grip on his cannon tightened.

"Breach is imminent," he announced.

Far behind him, Blink poked his head over a barricade he had fashioned from two overturned bunks. "No shit!" he snapped, shouting above the sound of the battering ram. "What do we do about it?"

"When they enter, teleport yourself and Patches to safety," Stripwire ordered.

"Why can't you come too?" Blink demanded.

Stripwire answered by flicking a toggle on the base of his cannon. Its barrel started to hum. "Remain hidden in your new location until Jason contacts you. Keep Patches safe at all costs. And if at all possible, come back for Juice, assuming… Juice?"

The workbench was empty. Stripwire immediately looked to the command center and its thrumming generator. There, he found Juice hunched over the table, digging at the thick cables snaking from the generator.

"Not another step, Strip," Juice warned him. He swung his injured arm at Stripwire. His eye twitched with the scream he bit back at putting his burn through so much motion. Buildup crackled in his palm as he said, "You come near me and I'll zap you. Then we're both screwed."

"Juice, cease this at once," Stripwire said. His voice rose with surprising volume. "Your actions are irrational and statistically unsound."

Grunting, Juice ripped the primary cable out of the generator. The lights died with a snap, plunging them into the murky twilight that blanketed the city. In the ensuing dark, two electric blue motes narrowed into a scowl leveled at Stripwire.

"Screw your bullshit numbers, Strip. This is my home too, and you're my brothers. You don't get to decide what my life is worth. I do," he said.

"Juice, stop," Stripwire insisted.

"Don't waste this."

Juice grasped each frayed lead of the cable. Sparks burst from his mouth in a scream as the lights in Sanctuary surged back to life. White luminescence flooded the room, drowning out the blue lightning that arced from Juice. Toxic bulbs burst overhead, raining white powder and glass.

Stripwire accessed his wireless network before the electrical surge destroyed it. He willed the dormant circuits of the security system to open, directing Juice's power out to the grounds.

* * *

The ceaseless rhythm of the battering ram fed a growing migraine at the back of Rebound's skull. She groaned, mashing the tip of her cigarette's filter with her teeth, and massaged her temples. The cranial knot would not work loose. Sighing, she slumped onto the ground with her back against the wrought iron fence at Sanctuary's border.

"Christ, how long will it take them to knock down an effing door?" she grumbled.

Slumped next to her, Pyre tapped her on the shoulder. He held out his hand until she rolled her eyes and passed him the cigarette. The scorch mark on his jacket swelled as he took a long drag, wincing as he did. He remarked through a cloud of smoke, "I wish Krieg would let us just take the place apart. Five minutes, and I'd make that place into just a sack of briquettes and a memory."

They watched the regular Eighty-Eights rotate through shifts on the telephone pole they were using to break Sanctuary's doors. Though they had no shortage of numbers, the Eights had given up on other avenues of entry. The windows refused to break, and the other entrances to the old cathedral had been sealed with bolted metal plates. Most of the Eights milled around the cathedral's steps with smokes and bottles as they waited for their turn on the ram.

Taking back her cigarette, Rebound said, "Yeah, but you know Krieg would stomp you out if you lit that old crap heap up. He's obsessed."

She gasped and choked on smoke when the windows in Sanctuary flared. The twilight grounds grew long shadows in an explosion of light. The other Eights shouted, backing away from the door, dropping their bottles in favor of weapons.

Pyre struggled to his feet with a grimace. He braced himself against the fence and marveled at Sanctuary's glow. "What the f—"

All throughout the grounds, the wet and barren earth broke for the rise of thick, short pillars. The ascendant shapes resembled garbage cans with electric eyes and holes punched in their midsections. They swiveled on underground bases, their eyes following the Eights at the door. Then they sang.

Shrieking bursts of blue energy erupted from the pillars. Each burst struck an Eight with surgical aim, knocking ten feet of flight into each target. Screaming Eights filled the air as the pillars shrieked in their midst. No one was spared.

Several pillars near the perimeter spied Rebound and Pyre away from the crowded doors. Blue bursts screamed at them both. Rebound shoved Pyre behind her and stood her ground. The bursts poured over her, wrapping around her skin. They ruffled her clothes before destroying the fence behind her.

The glow in Sanctuary dimmed. So too did the eyes and holes of the pillars, which sank back into the broken dirt, leaving scores of unconscious Eights as evidence of their passing. The whole affair had taken less than three seconds.

Rebound stared in shock. "Holy shit…" she muttered.

"Rebound!" The shout made her jerk. She whirled around to see Krieg stalking across the street with Pig in tow. Her shock grew when she saw Magnum behind them.

Pyre spotted the Streetbeat too. Flames blossomed in his hands to rectify the situation. "Krieg, behind you!" he shouted.

Lifting his hand, Krieg snarled, "Lay off! Mag's on the winning team now."

"Like magic," Magnum teased her, and waggled his fingers. Rebound scowled and gave him a single finger in reply.

"What the hell are you two doing out here? You should have been inside by now!" Krieg barked, pounding the tip of his broadsword on the ground in emphasis. "I gave you the easiest job! Get inside a church!"

Hands still aflame, Pyre waved back at Sanctuary. His gesture made Rebound flinch and back away to avoid his hand. "We couldn't get through the door! And just now, the ground opened up and shot everybody! It was all—"

"Shut up," Krieg spat. "God, you freaks can't even handle a little B and E. Where the hell is Spooky? Spooky!"

A titter wafted from the ground. Spooky followed it out, sprouting like a ghostly lily. Her cherubic smile crumbled beneath Krieg's scowl.

"Quit that laughin'," he told her. "I let you into the Eights for one reason. Now let's go do it. We got Streetbeat inside, and they ain't gonna go easy on you like you ladies all been on them."

* * *

Stripwire's current arm lacked the sensitivity of his previous one. Its boxy fingers couldn't discern a pulse in the pale, supple skin of Juice's throat. But air continued to rasp in and out of his bleeding lips. Bioluminescence shone through his closed eyelids. While bad for Juice, the fact that his body was still producing a charge meant that he was alive.

Blink and Patches hovered over Stripwire. They lacked the gloves Stripwire wore to pick Juice up and carry him to a bunk, and so were left to watch. "How is he?" Blink asked. He cringed at the ribbons of smoke Juice trailed in Stripwire's grasp.

"He is not dead." Stripwire laid him in bed and drew the sheets to his chest. "I do not know if he will or will not yet die."

Rattling noises drew their attention to the doors. A pale hand passed through the solid wood and metal at the seam, fiddling with the complex latch. With a few strokes, the disembodied hand unlocked the door.

"That observation applies to us as well," Stripwire added.

He ran toward the command center, where he had left his cannon in order to carry Juice. The doors opened before he made it halfway there. He froze as Sanctuary opened for five unwelcome figures, as well as a sixth that lifted Stripwire's eyebrow with confusion.

"Honey, I'm home!" Magnum sang as he followed Krieg into Sanctuary. Pyre, Pig, Spooky, and Rebound followed him, all with a shared look of disgust for his antics. The band of Eights stopped inside, falling silent behind Krieg's reverent stare that traversed the cathedral interior.

The humble furnishings and their lone cyborg protector made Krieg shake his head. "What a letdown. I was expecting a lot more," he said.

Stripwire remained perfectly still. His augmented ears detected Patches' soft whimper from behind Juice's bed. He wished he could call to Blink, to tell him to take the little boy and teleport as far away as he could. But Krieg's sick smile and pendulous sword made him stand his ground in stoic silence.

"One left," Pig grunted. "What a gyp." Spooky giggled as she hung from his hand, grinning her agreement.

White heat burst into Pyre's hands. He glared at Stripwire, and then past him to the bed where Juice lay. "Let me do it. I owe these bastards plenty," he said.

He started forward, but was stopped by Krieg. "No," Krieg said. Looking to Magnum, he nodded, and said, "You do it. Think of it as your initiation."

Magnum drew a revolver and spun its chamber with a twist. "Finally," he said, and stepped forward. He drew a bead on Stripwire. The chamber of his revolver spun faster still in anticipation. Its slugs rattled with kinesis. Closing an eye, Magnum aimed for the glint in Stripwire's goggles, and said, "You have no idea how good this'll feel. I've been waiting for-freaking-ever to do this."

Stripwire did not flinch beneath the revolver's aim. More so than anyone's, his death had always been a matter of when, not if. This wasn't the death he would choose, but he was ready regardless. He stared into Magnum's aim, and nodded.

Without turning his gaze, Magnum swung his arm back at his fellow Eights. They cried in surprise at the gun turned on them, which spat a slew of slugs. The shots struck a surprised Rebound, whose body deflected them as though they were nothing. One of the ricochets grazed Pig's calf, eliciting a loud curse and a hop from the titanic Eight that shook the floor.

Magnum glanced back at the shocked, furious Rebound, and said, "Shit! Even when you're surprised, too? That ain't fair!"

The swipe of a broadsword made Magnum duck. He jumped back from Krieg's mad attack, losing a sliver of his fabulous hair in the process. "Dumb move, Mag," Krieg howled. "Dumb freakin' move! Now you're gonna—!"

Blinding light burst behind Krieg. Blink emerged from the flash to wrap his arms around Krieg's waist. Before the Eight could even curse, they both vanished in another flash, leaving emptiness behind.

The entire room stopped as everyone, Eight and Streetbeat, stared at the empty space. Yet another flash heralded Blink's return. He was alone when he appeared beside Stripwire. Smoothing the front of his shirt, he shrugged at the Eights' collective shock. "Yeah. He stepped out for a second," he said lamely.

Bent and clutching his leg, Pig cast a furious look at the other Eights. "What are you waiting for, a freaking sign? Get 'im!" he bellowed.

A blaze poured into Pyre's fists, scorching the floor as he stalked upon Stripwire and Blink. "Oh, yeah!" he crowed. Murder gleamed in his eyes, exploding into twin points of brilliant heat. Smoldering, he lifted his inferno to hurl upon the pair, and cried, "Time to flash-fr—!"

Blood and bone sprayed from the back of his knee. Pyre collapsed, screaming, his flames snuffing out as he clutched his mangled joint. He sobbed and curled into a ball.

"See?" Magnum snapped to Rebound. "That's what's supposed to happen! Why don't you get that?"

Rebound pulled a switchblade from her pocket and slapped it open. "Why don't you get this instead?" she spat.

Her knife cut the air as Magnum danced around her. Rebound knew how to handle a knife, that much was clear, but Magnum had been cut more than a few times himself, and was not eager to repeat the experience. As he ducked and weaved, he patted his jacket for anything that might slow Rebound down. He was loath to waste the few quick-load cartridges he had left for his revolvers.

Then he felt a long, fat presence in his coat. He whipped out the bottle of cheap vodka and thumbed out its cork. "Thirsty?" he asked.

Tactile telekinesis forced the contents of the bottle up into its neck. His thumb over the bottle's mouth turned the sloshing liquid into a fine spray. Magnum waved the spewing bottle at Rebound, stopping her in her tracks. The vodka mist was too fine to trigger her power, and soaked into her clothes.

Rebound coughed and rubbed her burning eyes, waving her hand through the liquored air. "Is that the best you got, scrub?" she wheezed, and glared. Her knife glinted wet as she brought it overhead to drive into his chest.

Fumbling in his pocket, Magnum produced a handheld lighter. "You're right. I can do better," he said, and flicked the lighter into flame.

He pushed another spray of vodka from the bottle and into Rebound's charge. Her battle cry became a scream as he grinningly swept the lighter's flame into the spray, igniting a wet, burping fireball. The fire consumed the vodka in the air, and spread quickly into her reeking clothes and hair.

Rebound shrieked as her whole upper body caught fire. The flame clung to her clothes and blackened her hair. Her slapping hands did nothing to discourage them. Magnum's bottle belched another fireball, chasing her back. She ran for the door, wailing, her fiery coat flickering behind her with the speed of her retreat.

Magnum lifted the bottle, gazing lovingly through its sloshing contents. "Is there nothing you can't do?" he said, and drank the last of his ammunition.

Spooky glided at Blink and Stripwire in Pyre's place. Her ethereal smile remained. Her giggle haunted the pair, making Blink cringe. He tugged on Stripwire's shoulder in panic, and said, "We have to go! That creepy Asian Dakota Fanning is gonna outside our insides!"

"Wait," Stripwire said. "We can hear her. We can see her. That means she possesses an actual, physical presence that interacts with her surroundings."

She giggled again. Blink tugged harder. "Who cares? Gonna 'port us," he cried.

"Wait," Stripwire said coolly. "That means her ability to traverse matter is likely the temporary integration of her molecules with other matters' molecules. She still must possess bonds on the subatomic structure in order to maintain a cohesive physical shape."

"So what?" Blink screamed.

Stripwire lifted his mechanical arm. Its parts slithered together, mechamorphing noisily, until he possessed an octagonal barrel for a hand. Cylindrical vents emerged from the top of the weapon with hissing steam. He swung the barrel at Spooky and braced his feet as if he were pushing a piano uphill.

The world turned yellow as Stripwire's cannon disgorged a column of pure force that engulfed Spooky. Only her scream remained. Everything else about her sailed out of Sanctuary's doors, trailing saffron.

Blink stared in awe through the yellow spots dancing in his eyes. He turned and found Stripwire ten paces back, where the recoil of his cannon had pushed him. Their placid cyborg shifted his cannon back into an arm and blew the smoke from his palm. "So, my cannon can affect her," Stripwire explained.

Knotting a scrap of shirt around his leg, Pig watched the Streetbeat embarrass his crew. He rose from his crouch, favoring his injured leg, and set forth to crush the treacherous Magnum.

The massive Eight took two steps before something grabbed the collar of his shirt from behind and choked him to a halt. He spun and caught a glimpse of knuckles before they smashed his face, pulping his nose and blackening both his eyes with a blow that rocked him back.

"You're strong, big guy," Queenie said. She filled the doorway with a tall, furious presence and ragged breath. Rubbing her knuckles, she glared at the reeling Eight, and said, "Maybe stronger'n me. But you ain't tougher. Not even close."

Pig lurched forward into a haymaker punch. Queenie ducked his fist, and then puckered his stomach with her fist. Her blows sank into his flab and cracked against his bone, knocking him back like a blimpish drunk. Winding up, she drove an uppercut into his chest that lifted him overhead. He sailed through Sanctuary's doors and bounced down the steps, landing hard next to a pedestal with the broken marble feet of a saint.

Stepping around Queenie, Jason entered Sanctuary, his fists curled and eyes darting. A quick headcount eased the tension in his chest, though he didn't like the looks of Juice.

"Where's Krieg?" he bellowed.

Blink stepped forward, raising his hand. "I, uh, sent him away. Ported him across town," he said.

Jason scowled. "Damn it!"

"Sorry. I thought getting Krieg out of here was a good thing," Blink muttered.

The rest of the Streetbeat gravitated to Jason at the door. A questioning look to each of them gave Jason a nod in reply to let him know they were all right. Magnum added a sheepish look and a shrug, to which Jason grimly nodded back. Then he staggered with a _woof_ as Patches dove into him and wrapped around his waist.

"I knew you'd come back," Patches sobbed into Jason's stomach. "I knew it."

Jason tussled Patches' hair. He smiled, and said, "Nice work protecting Sanctuary, kid. Way to whip these guys into shape while I was gone. Now I need you to keep an eye on Juice for me. But don't touch him, okay?" At Patches teary nod, Jason nudged him out of the circle. His face and words hardened once Patches left the reach of his voice. "What's the sitch on the lawn ornaments outside?"

"The stun effect of our security system should wear off momentarily," Stripwire reported. "We will then be up to our asses in Eights." Four confused glances made his eyebrow rise. "To use the vernacular," he added.

Queenie pounded her fist into her palm. "So what? We go outside, tap some chins, and boot their asses off our yard."

Glancing nervously outside, Blink piped in, "There's a lot of them. And not all of us have powers that can tap chins."

Checking his jacket, Magnum said, "That bounce-off bitch ate most of my ammo, but if they line up, I can ace my fair share. Some of Blink's too, since he has girl parts." At Queenie's glare, he amended, "_Little_ girl parts."

"**HAWKE!**"

The furious howl filled Sanctuary. Through the doors and down the front walk, at the broken and rusting gates of the grounds, Krieg squared off against the cathedral itself. The broadsword hung from his grasp. His booming voice stirred the awakening Eights that were strewn across the ground.

Krieg hammered the blade against the ground. "Get out here, you son of a bitch! We ain't done here. We just gettin' started!"

Rush stood behind him, leaning heavily on her knees, pouring sweat from her face. Jason guessed how Krieg had gotten back to Sanctuary so quickly. So much the better.

The rest of his metahuman Eights crawled back to Krieg, save Pyre, who bled and sobbed near Sanctuary's doorway. Jason watched the collective Eight army stagger to its feet beneath the glare of their leader.

His plan solidified in his head. It was a good plan, provided he didn't die in the process. "I got this one, guys. Hang back and jump in if it doesn't work," Jason said.

As he started for the door, Queenie quick-stepped after him. "By yourself?" she demanded. "Have you gone macho-crazy?"

"Trust me," he quipped with a tight smile.

She rolled her eyes while the rest of the Streetbeat fell into step behind them. "Oh, well, hearin' that just makes me all tingly with confidence," she snarked.

The Streetbeat marched out of Sanctuary behind Jason. Magnum stomped on Pyre's leg along the way, grinding his foot until Pyre's yell brought a smile to his face. The Eights outside were unprepared for a full attack, least of all their metahumans. Pig's face resembled raw, purple hamburger. Spooky hid behind him, peering around his leg. Rebound tugged at her scorched hair and glared furiously. Behind them all, Rush stood and waited, trembling.

"C'mon, Hawke!" Krieg screamed. "Why you playin'? You got nothin'! Look at you! You got nothin'! Look what I got!"

Jason stopped at the foot of the stairs. His glare pierced the row of Eights between him and Krieg. The startled, battered bangers slid aside to clear the way for the bad blood between Jason and Krieg.

"Yeah," said Jason. "You got it all, Krieg. Did Maiko stop watching his back? Bad move. Or maybe he just bought it from somebody else, and you jumped at the chance to take over. You were never smart enough to take him out yourself."

Rage twisted Krieg's face. "You shut your face, Hawke. I'm gonna own you!"

"Not if I own you first, shit bag. I'm challenging you," Jason retorted.

He slid the denim jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall behind him. The pale skin of his arms shone with the colors of the sunset. His tank top left his shoulders bare. There, on his left arm, a pair of faded eights sat in his skin, rippling as he moved. He flexed his freed arms, letting everyone see the tattoo.

Stunned silence froze the Eights. The Streetbeat were little better. They stared at the eights on Jason's arm as he walked the gauntlet of bangers. Queenie's expression petrified into stony apprehension. Both of Stripwire's brows had lifted in surprise. Blink's mouth moved, but words failed to find their way out.

"Holy shit," Magnum exclaimed. "I didn't think Jason's jacket could come off. I thought it was, like, grown into his skin, or something."

Krieg brayed a laugh at Jason's approach. "Are you outta your mind? You ain't one of us no more, Hawke. You gotta be Eight to lead. You ain't Eight, church boy."

"You refusing the challenge, Krieg? No surprise there," Jason said, turning a smirk to the encircling Eights.

"You ain't one of us," Krieg said with another, less humored laugh.

He pointed the sword at Jason with a sick grin. He expected his Eights to swarm the stupid Streetbeat and tear him apart. So when the stony silence continued, he lost his grin. The sword dipped as he looked around and found the faces of his Eights watching him expectantly. "What are you assholes waiting for? Get 'im!"

Pig folded his arms. "Dude's callin' you out. He's dissin' you. Means he's dissin' us. You gonna take that from him?"

"We ain't seen you lift a goddamn finger this whole fight," Rebound snapped. "Way I see it, it's your turn."

Krieg swung the sword around, leveling its point at the pair. They backed away from his furious swipe as he yelled, "You worthless freaks! He can't call me out! He ain't one of us no more! Now get him!"

As Pig and Rebound parted, they revealed stoic Rush behind them. She stared down the point of Krieg's stolen sword, and murmured, "Eight for life. Isn't that what you told me?"

"Are you kidding me?" Krieg screamed. He whirled around to his army of Eights. They remained in a circle around the pair, watching and waiting. Behind them, the Streetbeat stood on the steps of their home, overseeing the challenge. "This ain't a challenge, it's a joke! What are you waiting for?"

Jason's quiet words cut the wake of his scream. "They're waiting to see what kind of guy is throwing them into fights they can't win. Is he a guy who hides behind them, or a guy willing to lose with them?"

Krieg cocked the sword to his shoulder like a bat. "What does that bullshit even mean?" he spat.

"You never got that," Jason said, shaking his head. "That's why Maiko picked me. That's why I left."

"Go to hell!"

Krieg swung. The broadsword swept with the full might of his muscled frame. He chopped at Jason with enough force to cleave him in twain. But he still had not learned that hard lesson of blades from their last fight. Jason resolved to teach the lesson again.

The sword cleft a tuft of blond hair from Jason's scalp. The rest of Jason ducked, and then sprang forward. He kicked the hilt, launching the broadsword out of Krieg's grasp. The sword spun out of the fight as Jason drove his fist into Krieg's stomach, staggering the larger man back.

"You wanted my sword, and you can't even use it," Jason snapped. "How stupid are you?"

Krieg snapped a blade from his jacket and tossed it between his hands. Wild, feral hate blazed in his eyes. "Not stupid enough to bring fists to a knife fight, Hawke!" he roared.

He drove the knife at Jason hard. Two quick slashes carved red ribbons into Jason's chest. Jason hissed, and then caught Krieg's stab with both hands. Krieg had too much weight and power for Jason to stop him cold. He shoved the knife downward instead.

The blade sank into Jason's thigh, plunging a shaft of agony deep into the muscle. Jason screamed behind his teeth as Krieg twisted the knife hard, leaning in face-to-face with his hated rival.

"Maiko didn't do too well with this knife, Hawke," Krieg snarled, and twisted harder. "How you like it?"

Jason's hand wrapped around Krieg's on the hilt of the knife. He held them both fast to the gushing wound in his leg, keeping them connected. Krieg frowned and tried to pull away. He couldn't break Jason's hold. Jason's muffled scream became a growl. "I like it so much, I'm gonna keep it!"

His forehead slammed into the bridge of Krieg's nose. Krieg reeled back, and then jerked forward as Jason dragged his knifed leg back. With one hand on Krieg's, Jason drove his other elbow into Krieg's jaw, and then brought it back across the other side of Krieg's face, and then smashed it back across his jaw again.

Krieg lurched with the blows. He tried to get away, but Jason's grasp kept his hand around the knife, and the knife in its bleeding sheath. Again and again, Jason crossed Krieg's face with his elbow. Krieg's eyes lolled. His legs gave out, and he crumpled to his knees.

Finally, Jason released the knife. It hung in his thigh as Krieg knelt before him, wobbling. The Eight's eyes uncrossed for one last baleful glare at the Streetbeat above him. Then Jason's knee drove him unconscious with a spray of blood and teeth.

Jason sneered down at Krieg's unconscious body. His sneer lifted to travel the circle of Eights around him, lingering longest on Pig and the other metahumans. "There. Challenge's done. And since he was in charge, that means I'm in charge now, right?"

Pig curled his fists, ready to refute the outlandish claim. But his blackened eyes caught sight of Queenie across the yard. A slight shake of her head made him open his hands, and listen in spiteful silence.

"No objections? Good," Jason snapped. He stood tall, seemingly oblivious to the three inches of steel buried in his leg, or the red stain growing in his jeans. "So here's what you're gonna do. You're all gonna pack up and leave town. I'm leader of the Eights now, and I say the Eights are done in Jump City."

"You can't just—" Rebound started.

"You had your chance to play nice. But you listened to him," Jason snapped, waving his hand at the insensate Krieg. "Too bad. So sad. Now piss off."

The Eights remained still. Some of them glared at Jason, while others looked around in confusion. All of them looked to the steps of Sanctuary at the sound of rearranging mechanical parts. They flinched in the yellow glare of Stripwire's force cannon, which he leveled at the crowd. Magnum backed him up with both revolvers. Queenie did the same with a cracking of her knuckles.

"Perhaps you are all suffering from temporary hearing impairment," Stripwire suggested.

"Your leader told you to piss off," Queenie growled.

Magnum's revolvers whirred in anticipation. "Or don't," he said with a shrug. "It's cool either way. Kind of a pain, though, since trash pickup isn't until Thursday."

In twos and threes, the Eights trickled from their circle and left through Sanctuary's gates. A few of them bent to gather Krieg between them. The yard emptied inside of a minute. Krieg's so-called "freaks" were the loath to leave, however. They gathered behind Pig, who had yet to move.

"This ain't over, Hawke," Pig promised him.

Magnum lowered his revolvers toward the porcine Eight. "Yeah? I got two doses of piping hot lead that—"

An animalistic scream startled him in mid-quip. He and the other Streetbeat whirled around, and flinched as a wave of heat roiled out of Sanctuary's doors. Pyre leaned against the doorframe, his entire body ablaze. A glare of pure fire boiled at Magnum as Pyre gathered the blaze around him into a shot. "Die, you fu—"

Lightning arced into Pyre from behind. His red flames turned blue in the intensity of the electrical storm ravaging his body. His scream cut short as his muscles locked into paralysis. The bolt ended, letting his smoldering body teeter forward. He toppled down the steps. Magnum hopped out of his way, letting him tumble to the bottom of the stairs.

"Did I get him?" came the weak cry from inside Sanctuary.

Glancing inside, Queenie saw Juice sitting up in his bed. His body smoked with the force of his shot. Patches had ducked down next to his bed, clutching his head in fear of stray electricity. "Yeah, you got him," Queenie called back.

Juice flopped back in bed. "Thanks. Gonna pass out now," he called woozily.

Jason scowled through Pig's startled shock. "Now you're done. So piss off already."

Rebound ran up and dragged Pyre back to the other Eights. She handed him to Pig, who slung the smoldering boy over his shoulder. Without another word, he and Rebound turned and left through the gates. Spooky ran to keep up with their fast gait.

Rush stood fast, her arms lowered and hands open at her sides. She showed no fear for the tensed Streetbeat as she walked slowly through Jason's hard glare. As the rest of the Streetbeat approached him from behind, she asked him quietly, "You really quit the Eights?"

"They didn't like it much. It's not something I'd recommend," Jason said flatly. He glanced back over his shoulder at Queenie, and added, "Not without some good help."

"And him?" she asked, nodding to Magnum.

Jason grasped the hilt of the knife in him. "Magnum's an asshole down to the bone. He'd sell us out in a heartbeat if he thought he'd get something out of it. Except…"

He glanced back at Magnum, who had a hand on Stripwire's shoulder. "Look at you, you little badass," he crowed, and mimed Stripwire's force cannon with his arm. "Blah-blah hearing problems… You can't teach that, y'know. That shit's genetic."

Stripwire arched a brow at Magnum's smile. "Thankfully, pomposity is not." But he laid his hand on Magnum's hand, and nodded.

Jason smiled. "Mag's always got at least one reason to stick with us. Long as his brother's Streetbeat, he is too."

His smile became a bark of pain as he tore the knife out of his leg. He swore and tossed the knife aside. The tear in his jeans widened at his tug as Queenie and the others reached him and Rush.

Keeping a wary eye on the speedy Eight, Queenie examined Jason's cut. "That looks nasty. Patches!"

The little boy peered around the broken door of Sanctuary. He'd snuck from Juice's bedside to watch the Streetbeat. He gasped and ran out at the sight of blood pouring from Jason's leg, even as the bleeding center of attention insisted, "It's not that bad. Patches, you don't need to—"

"Shut up," Queenie told him. She ushered Patches through the others and knelt next to him. The little boy examined Jason's cut fearlessly, unaffected by the sight of blood. "Think you can do something, little man?" she asked Patches.

"Just a quick patch," Jason insisted.

He winced as Patches rested his fingers around the cut. The boy's eyes closed. In seconds, the blood pouring from Jason's leg became a trickle, and then stopped entirely. The skin at the edge of the raw cut puckered together, closing the wound entirely.

Rush stared in awe. "He can heal?" she asked of the little boy's miraculous power.

Blink grinned and flexed the hand that Patches had clutched all through his recovery. "Like a champ," he said. "You don't think we let just anybody hang around here. That'd be dangerous."

Jason sighed and pulled Patches hands away from the cut. "That's good, kid. Real good."

"But I'm not done," Patches insisted, looking at the bloody mess. "It's closed, but it's still owie."

"It's fine. Feels like new," Jason said. "Now—"

The neighborhood's windows rattled with the force of a screeching jet that passed just overhead. The teenagers on Sanctuary's doorstep ducked instinctively as the Teen Titan's gleaming jet, Icarus, soared overhead. As they followed the jet's path, they saw warm colors burning in the early night sky. The distant fires of the Titans' battle were not as distant as they had been.

"Stripwire?" Jason asked.

Their young cyborg tilted his head to one side. His internal equipment accessed radio waves, wireless signals, satellite feeds, and everything else flying through the air that no one else could hear or see. "The Tyrants have spread their fight to other portions of the city since last we checked," he reported. "Incidents of panic and riot are spreading in the wake of the battle. Authorities are responding accordingly, but the situation is rapidly becoming unmanageable."

Disbelief spread across Queenie's face. "You still wanna help take down the Tyrants? You must be nuts," she said.

Jason didn't hesitate. "I am nuts. And no, forget the Tyrants. Let the glory hounds take care of their playmates. Somebody has to be around to make sure the city doesn't fall apart.

"Strip, you're coordinating in the field. You and Blink keep everybody moving to the riot hotspots. Queenie and Mag, you're the muscle. Break 'em up fast, but gentle. These are regular folk, not metas."

"You mean like the 'nilla that stabbed your leg?" Magnum asked sarcastically.

"Yeah. Now get moving unless you want a demonstration. I'll coordinate from here after I get the command center back up and running."

He turned toward Sanctuary when Rush's voice stopped him. "Let me help," she said.

Jason looked back. "Look, kid, if you want protection from the Eights, that's fine. Get inside and grab a bunk. But this ain't a club. We got work to do."

Her hard look made him pause. She gathered her courage, forcing her trembling body still, before she spoke. "My Grampa wouldn't want me to just sit around when people are in trouble. Especially…" She looked down, her bruised face reddening. "Especially the person who saved me from being something I'm not."

"We kick your ass, and you wanna join up?" Queenie said with a note of accusation.

"You…you came back for him," Rush said, nodding to Jason. "I want…I want someone who'll come back for me. I want that," she insisted.

"We are a guy short," Magnum said.

Stripwire's goggles bore down up on her with clinical scrutiny. "She attacked us," he reminded them.

Magnum scoffed. "You're just pissed 'cause she broke your car."

Queenie silenced them both with a snap of her fingers. She glared hard at Rush, waiting for the wafer-thin girl to break. "Jason?" Queenie asked sidelong.

Turning on his good leg, Jason watched Rush squirm under the attention. Finally, he nodded, and said, "We don't have a lot of time, so let's make this quick. Initiate her."

The Streetbeat surged forward as one, needing no more encouragement. They grasped Rush by her arms and held her still. Rush closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Her whole body tensed in anticipation. A whimper ghosted up her throat.

She heard the hiss of aerosol, and cracked an eye. Stripwire stood before her, his mechanical arm moving methodically over her tank top. A fine white spray of paint from his fingertip drew perfect lines on the fabric, lines that he connected into the Streetbeat's graffiti tag. When Stripwire stood back, she craned her head down to see the "S" emblazoned on her shirt.

"There. Welcome aboard," Jason said. "What's your name?"

She frowned. "Rush," she reminded him.

His hard expression softened. "What's your name?" he asked again, this time gently.

The tightness in Rush's chest relaxed, if only a little. "Bri. Brianna Rushmore."

She staggered as Queenie clasped her shoulder. Fear spiked her heartbeat into high gear. But Queenie just grinned, and said, "Nice t' meet ya. I'm Olympia."

"Brink," said Blink.

"Dewey," Magnum said. He lifted his revolver warningly, and added, "But if you ever call me that, I'll freaking kill you."

"Stripwire," said Stripwire. Magnum rolled his eyes.

"An' I'm Patches!" the little boy in the patchwork coat exclaimed.

Now Jason rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. Everybody shut up. We got work to do. Patches, I want you to go with the others. You stick with Rush, and you find hurt people that need help. You listen to these guys, and do everything they say, okay? This is really important."

"Really?" Patches cried. "I get t' help!"

Deathly seriousness burned in Jason's stare as he looked to Rush. "You keep an eye on the kid. Nothing happens to him, got it? And that listening thing goes for you too. Guys are gonna keep a good eye on you."

She nodded her understanding as Magnum said, "Finally, a decent piece of tail to look at."

"I think I'm offended," Queenie huffed sarcastically.

"Me too," Rush said nervously. "Also, um, I'm right here."

"I know. Could you maybe turn around? Do a little something?" Magnum flexed his own buttocks in demonstration. Queenie propelled him forward with a shove toward the gates.

"Queenie," Jason called after her, stopping her as the others jogged out into the street, "Wait up. I need your help with something."

The towering teen lingered as the rest of the Streetbeat left. She walked back, and waited until the others had disappeared down an alley before she said, "It's okay. They're gone."

Jason collapsed onto one knee and coughed a curse at his wounded leg. "Holy hell," he gasped, sucking air through his teeth. "I forgot how much it hurts to get stabbed."

"So it hurts a lot, huh?" she asked, and lifted him back to his feet with one hand under his armpit. His weight meant nothing to her. She could have slung him under her arm and hurt nothing but his pride. "I thought you were supposed to be tough."

He hissed and limped with her back toward the steps. "I thought so too. God damn," he swore when he put too much weight into one step.

"Who's 'limpy' now?" she said teasingly. Then she sobered, and asked, "You don't really think the Eights are gone, do you?"

He sighed leaned gratefully into her arm, wrapping his own arm around her back. "Nah. But I know they're done. We never should've had an understanding in the first place. We should've gone in and cleaned 'em out all along. And as soon as my leg stops trying to kill me, that's what we're gonna do, to the Eights and all the other rats in the city."

She tsk'ed and shook her head. "Still pickin' fights. Ain't you learned yet?"

"Hey, it turned out okay."

"You got stabbed," she reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. I remember that part," he grunted, wincing at another spike of pain that jumped up and down his leg. As he stopped, he looked down, and saw an old, battered broadsword laying discarded in the yard. It was chipped and pitted from years of fighting. It was heavy, and sometimes more trouble than it was worth. Ignoring the pain for a moment, he bent and, with Queenie's help, placed the blade back in its sheath where it belonged.

For the first time since it had been taken, Jason felt a little closer to being whole again. The arm around him helped even more. "But I also remember what we're about. Or did you forget?" he asked, half-playfully, half-hissing in pain.

She smiled, and held him a little closer. "Naw. I didn't forget," she said. "Glad you didn't, either."

"Never, Limpi," he said, and squeezed her back.

**To Be Continued**

* * *

A day late, but a dollar longer. I hope nobody minds too much.

This story didn't turn out the way I wanted, but here it is, regardless. And in the end, I'm glad I did it. If nothing else, it gets all of the OC out of my system. Next week, it's back to the real stars of the show and their eternal struggle against injustice and hormones. Tune in next week for the first installment, "Legacy." Same Teen time, same Titan URL. See you next time, when (don't I always say it?)…

The best is yet to come.


	16. Legacy: Recurring Nightmare

_Disclaimer_

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

* * *

California is a beautiful state, provided that one looks at it from the right angle. It has majestic mountains, stately old forests, lush valleys, rolling hills, and thousands of picturesque spots that practically do the tourism board's job for it. Consequently, the chairman of California's tourism board possesses both a fantastic golf game and little worry for the security of his job.

But like any state, California has its less desirable locales: there existed one such place, a patch of desolate land that managed to be useless to both agriculture and aesthetics at the same time. It was a near-desert tract of land that rivaled Death Valley in everything but heat, and possessed all the appeal of a North or South Dakota, minus Mount Rushmore. The land was a minor disfigurement on an otherwise lovely landscape, almost like a beauty mark.

This map-marring tract lay twenty miles east of the edge of Jump City. The locals had dubbed it "The Doldrums." They had then made it a landfill for the worst moment in the history of their city.

A tremendous pit had been cut into the earth in the middle of the Doldrums. It measured fifty yards on any side, and was lined with a two-foot layer of concrete that glistened with sealant. The bottom of the pit was made uneven by a carpet of mechanical parts, each of which resembled a piece of a man. Clawed arms reached up from the bottom as if frozen in an attempt of escape. Dead, blank eyes stared up from the bottom, watching the work crews' efforts to bury them.

The ghoulish collection of parts at the bottom made Steve shiver. He tugged his hard hat down and stepped away from the edge of the pit. Like his crew, he had been working for months to dispose of Slade's robots safely. And like his crew, he was all to ready for the final phase of their disposal.

Up on the surface, the view wasn't much better. Between the heaps of dirt they had unearthed sat equivalent heaps of robot parts that waited for their turn in the pit. The field around them was dotted with both kinds of piles. Steve could not wait until all of them wound up buried and forgotten.

He swung his arm high, signaling a bulldozer that trundled toward the pit. His number two man on the job site sat at its controls, and waved back at Steve's shout of, "Hey, Clint!"

"Hey, Steve!" Clint called back. He patted the steering wheel of his rig, and shouted, "The old Moose here is rarin' to go. What say we put these junk piles to bed and tuck 'em in real tight?"

Steve glanced back at the pit. He stifled his shiver so Clint wouldn't see. "Yeah. But let's throw one more pile of bots down there for the first layer. We've got a few feet of wiggle room, and I'd rather have more bots at the bottom and more dirt up top than the other way around."

Teasingly, Clint shouted, "Tinker toys giving you the willies, Boss?"

"Real funny. Just roll your rig, Mister Comedian, before I make you quit your day job," Steve snapped, and waved him on.

Tapping his helmet, Clint swung the bulldozer's path to a nearby pile of robotics. Steve watched the bulldozer push into the pile. With no one watching, he shivered openly at the wave of faces and limbs that spilled around the edge of the dozer's blade. Watching the bodies being pushed into a hole, even if they were mechanical, made his stomach churn.

And yet, there was something cathartic about taking a bad memory and shoving it underground. With the completion of the pit project, the city could at last put the past behind it. And the lucrative contract Steve's company had obtained to design, dig, and cap the pit didn't hurt either. As he watched Clint doze the pile toward the pit, he breathed a sigh in relief for the end of a long, terrible nightmare.

Steve choked on his sigh at the sight of red light in the pile being dozed. At first, it was a single, brilliant point that shone between the rolling parts. Then more points came into being, and then more still. The whole pile at the front of the bulldozer glowed with red pinpricks. Steve didn't realize until he watched a head surface from the pile that the light came from the robots' eyes.

"Clint!" he screamed, waving his arms madly. "Clint, cut your engine! Something's up!"

The shout turned Clint's head. "What?" he shouted back, deafened by the bulldozer's motor.

When he turned away, he missed the sight of hands grasping the top edge of the dozer's blade. Three robots climbed over the front of the bulldozer to stand on its engine. Two of them each lacked an arm, while the third balanced on a single leg. All three of them possessed glimmering eyes.

Clint turned back to the windshield. He screamed as the robots' lights flared. Beams streaked from their eyes and burned through the windshield. Flesh and bone boiled away beneath the terrible light. Clint's scream became a rattle as the beams tore his chest to blackened shreds. The bulldozer sputtered to a stop when its driver slumped over the wheel. Neither the dozer nor its driver would ever move again.

The horrific scene deadened Steve. He could only stare in abject horror as he watched more robots rise from the pile. Some were just torsos that dragged mangled stubs behind them. Others were skeletons that lacked their armored guises of men. None of them seemed slowed by their damage.

Steve turned to run. To where, he did not know. The crews' cars were parked well away from the site for safety reasons, and the robots could cut him down with just a look. Still, he had to try. He turned, and then froze.

More of the piles writhed with reactivating robots. All of the piles. All around him, the black and red drones of Slade's army shambled out of their own dismembered parts. He watched the drones gathering their parts, examining them for usability. Those without arms kicked replacement ones toward the drones that could help them. Those without legs dragged themselves toward new hips.

The robots' fingers lit with micro-welding heat that soldered wires into empty sockets. They were fixing themselves. They were reactivated, and they were recuperating to fighting form within minutes.

Steve staggered back from the sight. His heavy steps took him to the edge of the pit, where his heel pressed down on open air. He wheeled his arms to stay upright. He looked down into the pit, and screamed again.

The walls of the pit were black with robots. They crawled like spiders up the rough sides. They moved with inhuman speed and precision. Their dead eyes burned up at him.

Steve's last thoughts, despite his fear, were of others. He thought to warn someone, anyone, of these reactivated horrors. His hand was in his pocket to grasp his cell phone when red light consumed him.

What remained of Steve tumbled into the pit without a sound, trailing putrid smoke behind it. The robots ignored him and set their processors toward the task of salvage and repair. Their optics were firmly locked on their goal, a distant metropolis sitting on the open horizon.

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Legacy**: _Recurring Nightmare_

"Concentrate," Doctor Hayden said softly. His voice echoed as if carrying over a great distance. "Concentrate on the sound of my voice. Let it guide you deeper into yourself. Deeper into the places you can't go."

Tek had little choice but to listen. Hayden's voice was the only thing she could hear. The rest of her world swirled around her in a kaleidoscope of color and white noise, none of it distinct, all of it disorienting. She tried to ignore the stomach-churning surreality, and waited for something tangible on which to focus.

Her breathing slowed. The kaleidoscope around her slowed down, and eventually stopped. "Good," Hayden said. "Keep concentrating. Where are you now?"

A smile creased her cheeks as she recognized her surroundings. "I'm in Titans Tower. It looks like it did before the explosion." She stood at the upper level, just outside of Ops. To her left, the old picture of the founding five Titans smiled back at her. "I'm right at Ops' door," she told the disembodied voice.

"Concentrate on the door," he told her. "Walk up to it. Is it open?"

She approached the double doors. They did not trigger in her presence. A faint breeze escaped through the seam down the middle. "They're not opening. I think they're broken, or locked," she said.

"They aren't locked, Tek. Open the doors. Push them if you have to."

Tek tugged at the center seam. It bit her fingers with cold. "I don't know if I can," she said. "I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to move them. Last time I was here—"

"You are strong enough. Force the doors open. You can do this," Hayden said.

Grasping the seam, Tek pulled on one leaf of the doors with her whole body. She felt her arms strain, and tried not to dwell on the metaphysical implications of a pulled muscle in this place. Summoning all her might, she forced the leaf halfway into its socket, and then slipped through before it could snap back into place.

The murky world she stumbled into was cold and damp. Smooth pavement caught her stumbling steps. Brick walls rose up on either side of her, stretching into infinity above. A sliver of city lights waited in the distance beyond the edge of the walls.

"Where are you now, Tek?"

"In an alley," she said, and stepped forward slowly. "It's night. It smells like it just rained. Like it might rain again. Everything's wet, and…"

She trailed off. There was another door in one of the brick walls. This door was made from thick, riveted metal that had turned green in the elements. Rust stained the surface around its knob. When she stepped toward it, a chill swallowed her spine from the bottom up.

"What is it? What's in the alley?"

The chill worsened with another step. "It's another door. It looks…big."

"Go to it, Tek."

She took another step. Ice water spread from her spine to consume the rest of her body, making her tremble. Within reach of the door, she stopped, and hugged her chest to quell herself. "I don't like this. It feels wrong," she whimpered.

Hayden's voice echoed in the alley, "Tek, you need to open that door."

"I…I…" She tried to touch the knob. The air prickled with cold, turning her moan into a puff of steam. She yanked her hand back and sobbed, "I can't."

"Tek, this is important. Concentrate. You can do this."

The temperature plummeted. Tek's skin cracked in the intense cold. Her eyes burned and watered. Her teeth ached with each panicking breath. "I can't. I have to get out of here!"

"Tek, no."

Her fingernails tore against brick as she clawed the wall at her back. The door before her grew, stretching into enormity. The alley narrowed, pushing her inexorably toward the door. Her feet scraped the pavement as the wall shoved her forward. "Get me out!" she shrieked. "Get me out! I want out!"

"Okay. Okay! I'm going to count to three, and you're going to be back in my office, completely safe."

Tek twisted her face back into the wall, unable to bear the sight of the door any longer. The cold reached for her, brushing her chin with fingers of black ice. "No!" she screamed.

"One. Two. Three."

The alley vanished. Tek sat up with a gasp and clutched the sides of the fainting couch on which she lay. Cold sweat drenched her shirt and jeans, making them cling to her skin. The wall before her was made of bland plaster, not brick, and it held framed certificates and photos. No doors. She laid back in relief and tried to soothe the jackhammer in her chest.

Doctor Hayden sat next to her. He was a bland slip of a man with mousy brown hair that grayed and receded. Round spectacles sat on his nose. A pensive breath grew in his chest as he handed Tek a handkerchief.

While she gratefully dabbed her glistening face, he said, "I think we've made some excellent progress with this session."

Tek peeled back the hair plastered to her forehead to reveal a frown. "You always say that," she groused. "But every time you put me under, I just wind up walking through doors until I find one that I can't open."

"Ah, but it's the nature of those doors that bear significance," he countered pleasantly. "With each new door you've discovered, you were able to describe its location as a place of your own personal recollection. This door in the alley is somewhere you've never been, yes?"

She masked her disquiet behind a shrug. "It was an alley. So?"

Hayden smiled. "'Alleys' hold a special significance for you, Tek. Your first memory was in an alley. Was it this one?"

This time Tek could not suppress her shiver. Her first moment in this world had been one of terror beneath the gun of a man named Irons. She had blacked out, and then awoken to her second moment covered in his blood. She still felt panic whenever she saw anyone in a black suit and matching tie. Doctor Hayden knew better now, and wore a colorful cardigan sweater to each of their sessions.

"I don't think so," Tek drawled.

The answer broadened his smile. "Marvelous! I do believe we've hit upon one of your repressed memories. Your reluctance to open the door could mean that it represents a breakthrough to your amnesia."

Her eyes trailed across the wall in miserable self-reflection. She paused upon the golden mask hung next to his diplomas. The mask's eternal smile always made her feel worse for not feeling better, as though she should be smiling too. "I thought it means I'm a lame super hero who can't open a stupid door," she mumbled.

Hayden sobered thoughtfully and leaned back in his chair as Tek sat up. "Let's leave the hypnosis behind for today. Tell me, how are things going at home?"

"Fine, I guess," she said with another shrug.

He arched an eyebrow. "Tek," he said reproachfully, "You know I detest the word 'fine.' And you know these sessions won't help if you aren't honest with me and with yourself."

"But things really are going fine," insisted Tek. "Cyborg has the new Compound running smooth, and he's really pulled everybody together. Beast Boy's got a better handle on whatever it is his body is doing now. Even Raven's doing better! She's been seeing a lot of this one guy. I haven't met him yet, but I think they might be—"

Hayden lifted his hand to interrupt her. He sighed, and removed his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose. "Tek, I'm interested in how things are going for 'you.' How are you coping with all of these changes in your life?"

Tek puffed in exasperation. "That's the problem," she said. "I don't feel like I even have a life. I feel like I'm just waiting around to wake up one day and remember who I am. Like I'll just open my eyes, and bing! There I am! Every time I eat something I've never had before, I wonder if I should already like it or hate it. I see kids walking with their parents, and I wonder if mine are out there. Do they miss me? Do I miss them? Am I ever going to get anything from my old life back? And what if I don't even want it back? What if I'm better off now, except I'll never know for sure unless I remember?"

He tapped his glasses into his palm and let her panting confession hang in silence. "Tek, I don't want you to pin too much hope on these memories we're trying to recover. Regardless of our memories, everyone is a constantly evolving entity. No one wakes up and knows herself."

"No 'bing?'" she mewled.

He smiled and shook his head. "No 'bing,' I'm afraid. It would certainly make life easier, even if it did put me out of a job."

"Great," she huffed, pouting. "So I'm never going to be okay."

"I think the best way for you to be 'okay' is for you to start living the life you have now," he said. "Stop waiting to be the girl you were, and start being the girl you are. You have so much to offer, but you hide it in so many ways."

She frowned. "How?"

"Your fixation on how others react to you. Your emphasis on others' needs above your own. Even your clothes. You may be the only hero in history to wear so many other heroes' standards instead of your own."

Tek looked down at her black T-shirt. A Green Lantern symbol curved around her chest. She crossed her arms, embarrassed, and said, "I don't always—"

"Every time I've seen you," he insisted. "You wear these shirts because you feel as though you need to hide behind a symbol of someone you consider to be a 'real' hero. And you don't." He donned his glasses and gave his squirming patient a firm look. "I want you to go out today and buy something exciting to wear. Something colorful and vibrant. No T-shirts, no symbols. It has to be something original, and something you're absolutely terrified of wearing. And I definitely want you to start asserting your needs, and not necessarily the needs of those around you. Do you think you can do that, Tek?"

She gathered her answer in a deep breath, and released it with a sigh. "I think so."

He nodded and smiled, and stole a glance at his watch. "Good, because we're out of time for this week. The burden of your mental health is back in your hands. Take care of it, eh?"

Tek smiled wanly at his habitual joke as she stood to leave. "Thank you, Doctor."

Hayden rose to show her out of the office. "Don't go overboard. Just take some small steps, okay?"

Small steps. She could do that. After all, how hard could it be to reinvent an entire personality and undo one's self-manufactured unhappiness?

She reached the door, and hesitated, her hand hovering at the knob. Swallowing hard, Tek closed her eyes. Her small steps would only be as hard as her subconscious made them, which clearly meant that they would be very hard indeed.

* * *

"Up! Up-up-up!" Gizmo screamed, jerking his controller as he slammed its knob to either side. "No, no, no, no-no-no-no…yes! Yes, yes, y—no! You stupid, stupid stick! Go where I tell you! Oh, wait…waaaaaiiit… YES!"

Clad in just his boxer shorts, Gizmo leapt onto the couch and bounced in victory, his boxy controller held high over his bald head. Shimmer sat next to him, barefoot and sullen in defeat. She tossed her controller to the floor and snarled, "Balls! This thing cheats!"

Gizmo dropped onto the cushion next to her. A moony grin consumed his face. "You didn't think it cheated when I lost my jumpsuit. Now cough it up, loser!" His glassy lenses dropped to the pleather pants that hugged her hips.

She sneered at him, and reached instead to loosen one of the leather straps around her chest. The strap she undid was not nipple-critical, but it left unbound more cleavage than she wanted Gizmo leering at. She tossed the strap at him, which he caught and whirled over his head with a wolfish howl.

Standing behind the couch, Jinx rolled her eyes at the undressing duo. "I wouldn't get too cocky, Mik. I got next, and if I win, everybody gets to see your screwdriver. Bad time to wear a onesie, huh?"

"Frag off, magi-slut. No one beats the champion. I just lost 'cause I wanted you ladies to see all this. Consider it a gift," he said, and flexed his impish arms. The posturing earned him snorts and giggles from both girls.

Mammoth reclined shirtlessly in an easy chair next to the couch. A bucket of chicken wings sat empty under his arm. He belched and picked his teeth with a bone, and said, "Get 'er, Mik. I wanna see someone lose who isn't my kid sister." Shimmer wagged her tongue at him, to which he replied in kind.

Jinx circled the couch to take up Shimmer's controller when the doors to Ops split to reveal an irate Ravager. He marched in with a trio of Billy Numerous duplicates behind him. All four of them carried small satchels at their sides. Ravager dropped his satchel upon sight of the foursome gathered around Ops' interactive window monitor.

"What the hell is this?" he snapped.

The enormous monitor was black, with white posts at either end. A large white square lazily bounced between the posts, waiting for input from the controllers.

With a helpless shrug, Jinx said, "Uh, Strip Pong?"

The glare in Ravager's mask narrowed. He said testily, "Well, that explains what happened to your pants."

Jinx looked down past the lavender corset binding her chest. A pair of vibrant pink panties blared against the ashen pallor of her skin. She flushed with mild embarrassment as she said, "What? It's just a little harmless fun. You should try loosening up and having some. Why don't you guys jump in?"

The three Billy duplicates dove into one another and came out as a single Billy. Their satchels dropped behind him, bursting open with a spray of jewels every shape and color imaginable. In a flash of bright red, he jumped over the couch and unseated Gizmo with a bounce on the cushions. "I got next!" he cried, catching Gizmo's tossed controller.

Ravager bashed Billy on the head with his own satchel. "No, no, no!" he bellowed. The reverberation left his voice as he pulled the helmet from his head to unveil a look of disgust aimed at the lot of them. "This is just pathetic. Tossing your clothes about and playing video games when there's work to be done! Why don't we all just goof around for the rest of the day, hmm?"

"Now he's getting' it," Mammoth chuckled.

"I think I'm the only one who gets it!" Ravager barked. "Do you think this is a clubhouse? Numerous and I were out this morning robbing jewelry stores for the capital we need to keep this Tower of ours maintained. I shouldn't have to remind you people to commit crimes! If we're ever going to defeat the Teen Titans, we need to keep them confounded and off-balance by—"

Gizmo stood on the couch and tossed Shimmer's strap at Ravager. The leather bounced off Ravager's chest plate, enraging him to the point where he could no longer speak. "Give it a rest, 'Crabager.' We've all been busting our asses to get the Titans. We completely frakked the city's infrastructure just last week! We deserve a little break. Besides, I got this crap heap up and running already, didn't I?"

Mammoth grunted as he peered into the bottom of his wing bucket. Chicken bones spilled into his lap. "Still looks like crap on the outside," he grumbled.

"It's supposed to!" exploded Ravager. "How could you possibly not understand that when I keep explaining it to you? If the Titans looked out one day and saw their old base looking like new, they'd get a little suspicious, don't you think? Do you want them to come knocking and find out we remade the place into the Tyrants Tower?"

Pale hands pressed Ravager back from an unimpressed Mammoth. "Easy," said Jinx. "Easy, okay? Now look, Grant—"

"**Ravager**," he growled.

"'Grant,'" she retorted, frowning briefly. "Listen to me. We all hate the Titans. We're all working hard to bring them down. And I promise you, I'm going to be the first one dancing on their charred bones. But you've got to look at the big picture here. If we don't take some time to unwind and have some fun, what's the point of keeping the city in a constant state of near-panic?"

Her hands slid up his chest plate to caress his neck. Her teasing fingers worked some of the venom out of his scowl. Still, he muttered, "We're wasting precious time. We should be training. Or plotting."

"Think of it like teambuilding," said Jinx. "Just last month, Gizmo couldn't stand Billy. Now they're sitting next to each other without killing each other, and it's all thanks to Strip Pong!"

Realization struck Gizmo and Billy, and they began slapping one another's hands in a weak show of mutual animosity. Ravager, in the meantime, succumbed to the arms encircling his neck and the coy lilac gaze that leaned into his frown. His unintelligible grumble waned.

"Baby Face," she lilted, tickling the back of his neck. "I'm in my paaan-ties. And I suck at Pong."

Mammoth and Shimmer gagged theatrically as Jinx transformed Ravager's grim visage with a kiss. He surrendered grinningly, and said, "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

Leaning and leering, Billy quipped, "Not against legs like those, hombre."

Ravager worked at the clasps on his armor when the entire room pulsed with red light. A klaxon filled Ops, banishing their video game from the monitor in favor of a map of the metro area.

"It's the Teen TyrrAlarm!" Gizmo exclaimed. "Something major's going down in the city!"

One Billy split into five duplicates, one each for the red dots flashing on the screen's map. Each Billy pointed to a different dot. Strung together, the dots formed a curved line to the east of the city. "Not in," one Billy said, while another finished, "It's out in the middle of nowhere."

"Moving fast, too," Shimmer noted. "But what's so big out there that it's gonna register on our radar?"

Ravager manipulated their mainframe via his gauntlet computer. He silenced the klaxon and normalized the lights. Then he summoned to the monitor a report of the emergency.

His eyes narrowed with rage.

"Gizmo," he said, "prepare your new toy in the Bay. All of you, get dressed. We mobilize immediately."

He ducked his head into his helmet, locking it with a twist. As he stalked away, Jinx stared at the report in confusion. She recognized the threat, but not its meaning to Ravager. "Wait. This has nothing to do with us. What are we 'mobilizing' for?"

Halfway out the door, he stopped, and turned. The vast distance of Ops could not dilute the brute fury boiling from within his two-toned mask. He killed their questions with one word, a word that reverberated with familial weight. Then he turned and left them to scramble for their clothes.

* * *

"Bright blessings of Blood upon thee, brother and sister. Go in peace, and know happiness in the embrace of the Church."

Raven pushed the pamphlet aside and continued down the sidewalk. A turn of her head spared the street-corner proselytizer her irritated look. "Ugh," she muttered. "All these red cloaks hovering around the city give me the creeps. And considering the source, that's saying something."

Dominic walked next to her, navigating Jump City's downtown with an obvious smile. "I'll admit, the shadowy robes are a bit much," he said. "But look on the bright side. The Church of Blood has been giving a lot of money and manpower to rebuilding homes, setting up shelters, and keeping the streets safe at night. Heck, they're the reason the city even has an SCU anymore, thanks to some hefty donations."

She cast an eyebrow high with surprise. "But what about all the recruiting they've been doing here? Taking in starving, homeless refugees and making them members of their church," she countered.

"I'm pretty sure every religion everywhere calls that 'spreading the faith,'" he noted.

"They're a cult," Raven said. The word left a rancid taste in her mouth.

"Nah. Too many people for that. The government had to recognize them as a religion after the last census. They even get the standard tax breaks for it."

Raven's other eyebrow shot up to join the first. "It sounds like they have one more convert," she said, slightly alarmed.

Dominic shrugged. "After the fiftieth or so red cloak shoved a pamphlet at me, I decided to do a little research." He began ticking his fingers off on one hand: "The Church of Blood donates almost universally to foundations that support medical research, including stem cells. Their doctrines emphasize family and unity, which is why they don't insist on their members cutting ties with non-members like some religions do. The Church is always among the first to have volunteers and relief at every natural disaster around the globe."

"A 'little' research?" she said skeptically.

He shrugged again. "If they are a cult, they're about as nice a cult as you could hope for."

They walked several steps more before Raven pointed out, "You never answered my question."

"Hmm?" Dominic seemed surprised. "Oh, no way. Magnanimous or not, those Bloodheads are creepy. Them and their goat-faced grand poobah. I like to keep my own faith."

Relief swelled in Raven's breast. She dipped her chin to mask a small smile. Then she felt Dominic's expectant stare, and asked, "What?"

"Well, we've answered the question of my beliefs. Isn't it only fair that we hear about yours?" he asked. His voice remained light, but there was an undeniable interest in his words.

Raven balked. She had not meant to open the loaded subject of her own personal beliefs. The thought of discussing it made her stomach squirm, and understandably so: few people had the same insight into theology as she possessed. As coolly as she could, she retorted, "I don't recall ever agreeing to be fair in this relationship."

His face brightened like Beast Boy's on Christmas morning. Only too late did Raven realize her verbal slip. "Ha! You said the 'R' word. Now it's official," Dominic said.

Deep violet flushed Raven's face. "It's just a word. My teakettle and teapot have a relationship too. One dumps boiling water into the other. Would you like that kind of relationship?"

"That depends entirely on who the kettle is," he teased. At her huff, he added, "And you are absolutely adorable when you're violently obstinate. But what's so awful about admitting that you like me?"

"You aren't as charmingly irresistible as you think you are," she told him.

"That would mean so much more if we weren't still holding hands."

Raven looked down and discovered with mild surprise that her hand was firmly wrapped in his. Their fingers intertwined, with palm sweat mingling freely. They had been walking hand in hand throughout the conversation, probably even from the coffee house where they had shared breakfast.

As they passed a storefront window, Raven caught sight of a young, ridiculously cute couple, their eyes laughably bright with the simple delight of touch, their hands clasped and swinging between their pleasant stroll. She thought she looked foolish.

And she didn't care.

Smirking, Raven said, "Maybe I just don't want you getting lost."

Dominic smirked back. "Oh, yes. Your place can be hard to find sometimes. Which enormous letter was it? It's not the 'Q' down on Third Street, is it? That can be a dodgy neighborhood. Lots of young vowels running around making trouble. Sometimes even 'Y.'"

All too quickly, Titans Compound loomed before them. Raven unconsciously slowed her pace. She said nothing when she noticed Dominic do the same. They savored the walk around the Compound to its lobby, neither of them wishing to break their peace for more banter.

Raven felt glad. She reveled in the sense of tranquility pouring into her through Dominic's hand. The empathic tumult of the city could not touch her when she touched him. It was like experiencing silence after a lifetime of deafening noise. The feeling was heady and warm, and heartbreaking in that she knew it would end when she let go of him.

She couldn't explain the feeling. She needed to explain it, if only to know how to reproduce it on her own. After the next time, she would ask him. Always after the next time. If only she didn't ever have to let go…

Dominic opened the lobby door for her. As he entered, he jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of a slim blonde wearing a pink professional ensemble and a smile bright enough to blind him. "Good morning, and welcome to Titans Compound," she said. "How may I help you today?"

He patted his heart with his free hand while Raven followed him in, rolling her eyes. "Whoa," he said. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, Barbie."

"My name is Sarah. Would you like to learn more about the Teen Titans?"

He stepped back from her silent, eager, eerie smile. Leaning to Raven, he tapped his temple and murmured, "Is she…all there?"

Raven bit back several choice words she would save for Cyborg. "Computer, deactivate SARAH Sim," she commanded.

Sarah de-resolved in a spray of pink pixels that vanished into the air. Dominic passed his hand through the space where she had been, and said, "Cool. She's really cute. Think I could get her number? Or…file location?"

Raven elbowed him in the ribs. "I thought you were already in a relationship," she said.

"I thought I wasn't," Dominic said. "Does this mean we're going steady? There's a sock hop at the soda parlor on Friday, and it'd be whiz-bang keen if—"

She squeezed his hand, prompting him silent. "Don't push me," she said with a smile.

Hand in hand, they drew closer. Dominic brushed her hair back over her ear, tracing the curve of her cheek. She sighed at his fingers trailing down the hollow of her neck. She arched her back as he dipped his chin, pulling her to his chest. The smell of fresh coffee and scone spilled from his mouth and over hers.

Raven closed her eyes and felt the slightest brush against her lips. Electricity jolted through her whole body.

The lobby door swung in. Sarah reactivated, startling the two teens apart with her cheery presence. "Good morning, and welcome to Titans Compound. How may I help you today?" Sarah chirped at the door.

Tek eventually squeezed herself through the lobby door, and then dragged after her the small armada of shopping bags she carried. The door caught and released the bags, knocking her backwards onto the tile. "Rrgh," she groaned, and glared up at their bubbly receptionist. "Don't help or anything, Sarah."

"Yes, ma'am," Sarah said.

Dominic's hand slid out of Raven's. As she watched him bend to help Tek, she felt the weight of the world settle upon her empathic ear once more. Tek's embarrassment blared against a backdrop of the city's collective feelings. Shuddering, Raven drew her cloak around her. Her psychic walls sprang up on reflex, keeping everything simultaneously out and in.

"Here," Dominic said, bracing Tek up with a hand. "Are you okay?"

Tek rubbed the seat of her jeans with a wince. "Yeah," she said, and looked up at the stranger helping her. "I'm...a total babe…"

She stared, jaw-slacken, at the lanky, fair-skinned gentleman whose hand kept her upright. He wore a faded button-down and black slacks that balanced comfort and style in a way that Tek envied, especially after a whole morning of shopping. Shaggy red hair fell over eyes the color of old jade, which sparkled when he smiled.

Dominic looked her up and down. "You're a cutey," he agreed with a nod. "Tek, right? I'm Dominic. It's nice to finally meet you. Raven….well, actually hasn't said anything about you. Or anybody. But I see you on the news all the time. That armor of yours kicks ass!"

She brushed back her hair to hide her blush. "Thanks. I like yours too. Your clothes, I mean. You have clothes, not armor. I know the, um, difference…"

Her voice trailed off in humiliation, fueling his smile. He let her off the hook by turning back to Raven. "I should probably go. I have work soon. But we're still on for dinner tonight, right?"

"Sure," Raven said, looking away.

Dominic bent to kiss her again. When she shied away, he pulled back. Stung confusion hung in his features until he saw her eyes dart to Tek, who watched them in rapt astonishment. His unspoken question drew a deep violet hue to Raven's cheeks.

"Don't push me," she pleaded in a whisper.

He smiled, and patted her shoulder. Then, before she could escape, he leaned in and kissed her blushing cheek. The flash of tranquility mixed with the electric jolt of his lips robbed Raven of any motion or thought. She stood there, wide-eyed, as he whispered in her ear, "A little push won't kill you. I'll see you tonight."

All three girls watched him as he left. Two of them wore smiles. A different two of them wore blushes. Sarah opened the door for him, and sang, "Thank you for visiting Titans Compound. Have a Titan-riffic day, sir or ma'am!"

"Woof," Tek breathed, letting her gaze drift down through the glass to the seat of Dominic's slacks. "Raven, he is molten-magma-Earth's-core hot! I can't believe that youuuuuuu obviously don't want to talk about it," she drawled, trailing off when she caught sight of Raven's expression. "Right. Sorry."

Raven drew up her hood, reassuming her shadowy, disinterested normalcy. She nodded to the bags strewn on the floor, and remarked, "I think Victor might have a fork lift in the Bay. You'll want to make two trips so it doesn't break."

Flushed with embarrassment, Tek asked Sarah, "Could you please take that stuff to my room? Don't open it! I mean…just put it in the closet."

Sarah gathered the bags, hefting them with holographic ease. She carried them to the wall, which opened to reveal a small service elevator. She dropped the bags inside and closed the door, restoring the wall back to seamless solidity. Then, with a nod to the two Titans, she de-rezzed, presumably to meet the elevator on the upper level.

Raven did not care for their artificial receptionist. Still, she felt tempted to call Sarah back just to avoid the trip through the security door alone with Tek. Uneasiness walked between the two girls, stretching the short hall behind the front desk into a marathon of avoided glances and subtle throat-clearing.

Tek broke first. "So," she said, her voice clawing its way from her clenched throat, "Date tonight. This is, what? Number three?"

"Mmn."

"Have you…I mean, do you…uh, kiss yet?" An image came unbidden to Tek, one of Raven hanging upside down from a dankly dripping cave ceiling with Dominic caught in the cocooning embrace of her cloak. Only her herculean effort kept the smirk off Tek's face.

Raven's empathy tingled with Tek's snickering curiosity. "How's therapy going?" she asked abruptly.

The question was a low blow, and Raven felt cheap for using it, but she was willing to go to any lengths to take the focus off her. The niggling, snickering curiosity she felt in Tek drowned in a spate of gloom, making Raven cringe all the same.

"Fine," Tek mumbled into her chest.

They scanned through the security door without further conversation. A battle raged on the other side of the door. Sector Prime echoed with a simulated ruckus, courtesy of the extensive holographic projection system Cyborg had installed. Not wanting to interrupt, or worse, get sucked in mid-battle, the girls stood at the edge of the sprawling floor and watched facsimiles of their worst enemies hurtle at their boys.

"Keep it tight, guys!" Cyborg shouted. His fist burst from the end of his arm, trailing a heavy cable behind it. The fist shot between the thick stone legs of Cinderblock, who roared as the cable wrapped around one leg. Cyborg yanked the foot out from under his massive opponent, toppling him. With Cinderblock down, Cyborg chanced a look back to see how his teammates were doing.

Lavender pus slithered across the floor. Its face morphed into a cavernous maw that grew yellow eyes to glare and shriek at the green gazelle bounding just beyond its reach. The gazelle shrank and changed, becoming Beast Boy. "Gimmie two seconds, and I'll have this zit popped, Vic!" he crowed.

Bushido hand-sprung back from a fist of pure electricity that rivaled any Volvo in size, if not in safety. He flipped to his feet and flung a wave of shuriken into the blue-white mass of energy pursuing him. Overload ate the metal stars, grinned, and then spit them out as carbonized wads.

"I am ill-equipped to defeat my opponent," Bushido called. "Perhaps if I switched with you, Cyborg—"

"Keep on your man. Man-thing. Whatever. Just take him down!" Cyborg shot back in mid-leap. He landed on Cinderblock's chest before the giant could rise. Cracks webbed beneath Cyborg's feet as he summoned the cannon from his arm. A sonic kiss knocked Cinderblock unconscious.

Beast Boy crouched low and bared his fangs at the oncoming wave of Plasmius. "Okay, snot ball. Here comes a nose who knows how to take care of boogers like you!" He inflated with a trumpeting cry, filling the floor with the form of a bull elephant. Tile rattled beneath his thunderous charge into Plasmius. His trunk sprayed the lavender pus with a mighty swipe.

But the majority of Plasmius that his trunk failed to defer crashed into Beast Boy's legs. Plasmius pooled around his stumpy stance, with yellow eyes oozing and bursting underfoot. Beast Boy wailed through his trunk before it became clogged with gunk. More of Plasmius slithered up his rough hide, engulfing the shapeshifter whole.

Shrinking back into his elfin self, Beast Boy clawed at the pus entombing him, and cried, "Id in by node!"

"Beast Boy." Bushido backed toward him, unable to look without taking his eyes off Overload. "Can you free yourself?"

"No, I can'd!" Beast Boy's choking sob answered.

Cyborg sprinted across the floor. His cannon blasted the edges off Plasmius's mass to no avail. He could not hit Plasmius directly for fear of hitting Beast Boy. "Gar! Hold on!" he shouted.

The help would be too late, as Bushido saw. He reached into his sleeve, and shouted, "Beast Boy, become something large to absorb the shock."

"Abzorb da chock?"

Cackling statically, Overload lunged at Bushido, just as the swordsman hoped. Bushido jumped up and over the clumsy collection of energy. A flick of his hand loosed a weighted chain from his sleeve. The spiked weight passed through Overload with only a few sparks to show for it. Then it exited the other side of Overload and sailed into Plasmius, still trailing its chain, which Bushido had released.

Overload screamed as his energy drained into the chain. An inhuman screech joined in as Plasmius smoked and boiled in the wash of blue lightning. Seconds later, all that remained of the villainous pair was a scowling diskette that clattered to the floor and a slumbering naked man.

Beast Boy lay twitching in a scorched lavender stain on the floor. Brittle, dried pus cracked off his uniform. His tussled hair stood on end. He stared at Cyborg's lumbering approach, his face spasming wildly, and coughed up a cloud of powdered Plasmius.

"Computer, end simulation!" Cyborg shouted. The Cinderblock behind him de-rezzed, as did the diskette, the man, and the stain. He helped Beast Boy up, keeping the twitchy shapeshifter steady with a hand on his arm. His mismatched glare burned through Bushido. "What the hell was that?" he snapped.

Bushido responded with a cool voice and a calm posture. "Overload was upon me, and Beast Boy was moments from suffocation. Had Beast Boy chosen a larger form, as I recommended, the shock would not have affected him as greatly as—"

"Stow it," Cyborg said. "You don't endanger your teammates to save your own skin."

"I was attempting to save his as well," Bushido said.

Curling his lip, Cyborg said, "Next time, don't even bother. We'd probably all live longer that way. Now get outta here before I put you on graveyard monitor duty for a month."

Bushido bowed. "As you wish," he said, and walked away.

Tek followed Raven out onto the floor. She cast a worried look after Bushido as she and Raven joined Cyborg and jittery Beast Boy. "Hey, guys," Cyborg said as he patted the shakes out of Beast Boy. "We missed you at training this morning, Raven. I knew Tek was gonna miss it, but where were you?"

"Out," Raven said in a tone that did not invite further inquiry. A sidelong glare aimed at Tek prevented any more answers by proxy.

Nonetheless, Cyborg pieced it together himself. "Oh, I get you. Cool. Next time, though, give me a little warning. It's not really fair if you get to make kissy face with your gothy beau while Gar and I have to handle the killer all on our own."

"Psh. Captain Pajamas couldn't give us any trouble on his best day," Beast Boy scoffed, and twitched.

"But Gar was the one who messed up."

Tek wilted under a trio of astonished glares. She clapped her hand over her mouth, realizing too late that she had spoken the thought. As the glares persisted, she peeled her palm from her lips, and reluctantly explained, "We all know blunt trauma doesn't work on Plasmius. Charging him like that was never going to work. And Vic, you had to know Ryuko couldn't take out Overload with what he had. He told you as much. He should have fought Cinder—"

"He screwed up," Cyborg said firmly, pressing a hand to Beast Boy's stiffening shoulder. "He could have stalled for time until someone came to help with Overload. He should have pulled Gar out, instead of almost cooking him."

Beast Boy shot Tek a dirty look as he smoothed his hair down. "Like disk-for-brains could take me out anyway." He shared a high-five and a laugh with Cyborg, instantly improving his mood. "So, I'm charged up and starved. Who's up for pizza? Raven?"

Her features flattened at his smile. "I just got back from breakfast," she said.

"Then you're just in time for lunch!" He grabbed her by the arm and towed her from the group. Her heels dragged in the air as she was pulled along by a hand that didn't understand the word "no."

Cyborg chuckled at the pair, and then set his aim toward the Habitation Wing and a hot oil bath. Tek's chasing voice slowed him until the rest of her caught up, and said to him, "Vic, hold on. I still don't get why you yelled at Ryuko like that. We've all messed up in practice before. Remember when I accidentally threw a Traino-Bot at Raven? She didn't walk right for a week, but you—"

An impatient groan from Cyborg cut her short. "Tek, that was different. Besides, he's already threatened our lives enough. I don't want him doing it anymore, even by accident. If I have to chew him out a little to get him to play for the team, then I will. He's tough. He can take it."

"That's not what I—"

The Compound klaxon howled. Bloody light pulsed throughout Sector Prime, turning the white tile red with urgency. Tek exchanged a worried look with Cyborg before she sprinted after him toward Ops.

They reached the far wall of the Sector a moment later, both breathing hard. Ops' balcony loomed high overhead. Cyborg slammed his fist into the wall, and ordered, "Computer, activate Fast Action Level Lifts!"

Six cylindrical hand grips extended from the wall, opening from six corresponding grooves that stretched from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Each grip came with a nerve-wrackingly small pedal, into which Cyborg and Tek slipped their feet. As soon as they grabbed their respective grips, the pedals leapt up the wall, shooting the two Titans along the dizzying grooves.

Tek mashed her eyes shut to stave off vertigo. Cyborg's unfortunately-acronymed lifts were the fastest way to Ops from the ground floor in an emergency. That did not mean she liked them, even for a second.

The lifts hissed to a stop next to the fourth floor balcony of Ops. A narrow bridge extended from the balcony's underside to allow them to step off. Cyborg vaulted over the rail and dashed into the central control chair as Tek balanced her way across the bridge. She shimmied over the rail just as Raven fluttered into Ops with a wave of cloak and a green pigeon behind her.

"What's on the Teen TroubAlert?" Beast Boy asked after shucking his wings for arms.

Cyborg grumbled under his breath. "You have to stop calling it that," he said. His fingers split open, revealing needle-thin actuators that spread across the console's keyboard. The actuators typed at inhuman speed to deactivate the noisy klaxon.

A map of the city resolved in hologram before them, spreading across Ops to display the location of the alert. The massive map shifted its perspective to the east of the city until brown emptiness loomed over the Titans.

"The Doldrums?" Beast Boy said, scratching his head. "What kind of bored idiot would cause trouble out there?"

"If anyone could answer that…" Raven murmured, knowing full well his sensitive ears would hear her. He raspberried her accordingly.

Another lift hissed up the wall, carrying Bushido to Ops. He flipped over the rail and landed behind them, asking, "What's the emergency?"

"If you'd shut up a second, I'll find out," Cyborg snapped at him, earning an unseen frown from Tek. His keyboard clattered under blurring actuators to call up more information to the holographic display. When the data arrived on-screen, Cyborg blanched.

"No way…" Beast Boy murmured.

Satellite images depicted the desolate Doldrums from above. Only the occasional patch of yellow-green sage broke the brown landscape, or so it should have been. But instead, a sea of black dots swept across the screen. The dark wave appeared to move slowly only because of the perspective. The computer calculated the speed of the wave to be more than enough to cross the Doldrums in a meager twenty minutes, maybe even sooner.

A second, closer image depicted the individual components of the wave. Red eyes waded in the sea, staring resolutely at the city before them.

"Everybody get to the Bay. Now!" Cyborg bellowed.

**To Be Continued**


	17. Legacy: Hold the Line

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Legacy**: _Hold the Line_

The view from the air brought back a host of memories that Cyborg would have been glad to leave buried. He wrung the grips of the Icarus's yoke as he peered over the nose of the craft at the black wave below. His glare narrowed to a needle's width. "Exactly how bad are we looking at here?" he asked.

Raven worked the control board behind him. The sensors painted a grim picture, which her hooded features mirrored. "The computer puts the count at just over five hundred drones. Imaging analysis indicates that they're fully functional, minus a few pieces of armor here or there."

Sitting across from Raven, Beast Boy swung away from the communication board and pulled the headset out of his pointed ear. "Emergency Services is working double-time to evacuate the eastern suburbs, but we're looking at hours before everyone squishable is out of zombie robot harm's way. Lieutenant Smith says he needs at least forty-five minutes to mobilize enough SCU to even scratch something this big."

The copilot seat creaked as Tek leaned forward. She could see the green line of the suburbs in the distance. The wave of robots blackened the bland brown landscape at such a rate that it would be upon the green line in almost no time at all. "We've only got minutes," she whispered, horrified. "It's going to be a massacre."

"The hell it is," Cyborg snapped. He tilted the yoke, turning the Icarus toward the lagging edge of the robot stampede. "Nobody messes up my town twice. Raven? BB? Let's cook some chrome."

The rear stations opened, each of their panels sliding away to reveal tactical screens and control grips molded for their hands. Beast Boy caught his grips as his station shoved them into his stomach. He cackled, and glanced back at Raven. "Wanna make it a game? Whoever hits the least has to pay at Hot Za tonight."

Raven's chilling glare did little to quell his mirth. "Grow up," she muttered.

Even so, she felt a sliver of satisfied excitement as she slid her hands into the grips and fingered the twin triggers. Her controls commanded one of two cannon arrays currently extending from the bottom of the Icarus. At the twitch of her finger, Gordanian-engineered energy death would rain down on the robot stampede below them. When her screen lit up with a crosshairs, she exhaled slowly, waiting for the black blot on the monitor to resolve into actual targets.

The jet's course continued circling until Cyborg straightened them out. He dipped their nose perpendicular to the stampede. Four stomachs were left behind as they dove. The altimeter spun toward zero at an alarming rate, but Cyborg refused to pull up until they could count the robots through the view port.

He yanked on the yoke and yelled, "Fire!"

The Icarus swooped over the robots in a screech of straining ailerons and engine wash. Green bolts spat from its cannons into the wave as fast as Beast Boy and Raven could mash their triggers. The energy splashed into the ground with a terrific spray of carbonized dirt. Blackened craters marked the jet's passing.

Cyborg grunted against the force of their climb back to a sane altitude. Once he'd leveled off, he leaned back, and asked, "How'd we do?"

"We nailed 'em, that's how we did!" Beast Boy whooped. He leaned down and kissed his grips. "Man, I love this jet."

"Hold on." Raven coaxed a new count out of her tactical sensors. The dust filling the air made a visual count impossible. When the sensors gave her an answer, she gasped, "No…"

Wirelessly, Cyborg brought up a view from their rear cameras and projected it onto the forward view port. He had to see for himself. And when he did, he understood Raven's disbelief. "Son of a bitch," he uttered.

From out of the mile-long dust cloud in their wake emerged the robot wave. Their numbers appeared unaffected by the artillery sweep from the Icarus. If anything, the robots were spread wider now, dotting the Doldrums instead of consuming it as a single mass.

"We got a few of them with our first shots," Raven reported. "The rest of them adjusted their trajectory almost instantly to avoid us. They dodged. We were just putting holes in the ground by our second shot."

"What? But that… That isn't…" Beast Boy kicked his console as he crossed his arms. His bottom fangs jutted from his lips in a pout. "What a gyp! I freakin' hate this jet. Can't even hit a few lousy robots."

Tek stared at the streaming video in the view port with mounting nausea. The Icarus had more firepower than anything else in their arsenal, and it hadn't made a dent in the stampede. "Wh-What about torpedoes? Or bombs?" she asked.

Cyborg grunted, "No. Torpedoes are even slower than the blasters. We'll never touch them. And we're not exactly equipped for carpet bombing."

Raven folded her cloak around her, tugging it free from her chair's restraints. "We should have brought the tank. At least then we could have run a few of them over. We might as well be giving them dirty looks in this thing."

"The CUTTER never would have made it here in time," retorted Beast Boy. "Unless you could poof it from the Compound all the way out here. But I guess you're too tired from smooching Emo McDreamy—"

"Enough! Both of you shut up!" Cyborg snapped. "We need to think of something else. This isn't working." He glared out the view port, tapping furiously on the control yoke in thought. Then he pinched his eye shut and swore, "Damn it. We're gonna have to do this messy."

Raven and Beast Boy saved their mutual glare for a later time. They looked to Cyborg, serious and attentive, and asked together, "What's the plan?"

"Tek, Rae, you two are our heavy hitters. Drop ahead of them and hit them with everything you've got. B, I want you and our resident assassin behind to cover them. Pick off anything that gets past our girls, but don't get in their line of fire."

Tek stared out at the miles-wide line of robots. Even if she didn't feel the beginnings of a panic attack—which she certainly did—there was no way she and Raven could do more than pick off a few of them before the rest ran past them through the acres and acres of ground the two Titans couldn't physically cover. "Cy, this would be a great plan if we could bottleneck them, but—"

He smiled grimly. "That's my part of the plan. Now get back to the hatch, and get ready to drop on my say-so," he said, and twisted the yoke.

As the Icarus soared back toward the city, Tek unfastened the straps of her seat. Her hands shook. She stood on unsteady legs and lingered at the cockpit door. Cyborg glanced back, and offered her an encouraging half-smile that she returned as best she could. She didn't hide her worry well, and she knew it.

The problem was, Tek wasn't worried for her friends, or even herself. The last time she had faced these mechanical terrors, she had lost control. Worse, she had withdrawn into herself for fear of losing control again. She had let Cyborg down.

How could he smile like that? He must have known she would probably let him down again. Tek knew she would.

Bushido sat strapped into the bench in the compartment for lack of a fifth seat in the cockpit. He seemed unbothered at being left out of the conversation. A pleasant calm emanated from him as he waited patiently, his katana sheathed and resting across his lap.

Raven emerged from the cockpit door, bracing her walk to the hatch against the equipment lockers to keep upright as the Icarus tilted. "Get up," she told Bushido.

"What is the plan?" he asked as he ducked out of his safety restraints.

"Drop and stomp," Beast Boy said as he staggered behind Raven. "We get a few miles' head start, set up a meat grinder, and make robot hamburgers. One hundred percent vegetarian, with your daily recommended dose of ass-kicking."

Raven spared Beast Boy's banter an arched eyebrow before she elaborated, "You'll back Tek and me up."

Bushido tied his katana to his waist. "Understood," he said simply.

Sneering, Beast Boy added, "Now, I know those aren't people, but try to kill 'em just the same. If things start to get too boring, maybe you can imagine that they're nuns, or babies, or baby nuns, 'kay?"

"I shall endure as best I can," Bushido said with a smile.

Her sickly expression souring, Tek said, "You can ride down with me, Ry. I'm not sure how high we're dropping, and a chute would leave you hanging too long."

He bowed. "Thank you, but I fear your suit would not protect me as well from the inertia as it would you."

"I'll fly you down," Beast Boy said, and shoved Bushido toward the hatch. "Try not to stab me on the way down."

"…said the Frog to the Scorpion," Raven muttered.

A wave of armor and light swallowed Tek's apprehensive frown. She towered behind her teammates at the back of the hatch, which sealed behind her, trapping them in the airlock. Her lurching stomach tracked the movement of the Icarus beneath them. They were descending again.

"_Ready?_" Cyborg's voice filled the hatch. "_Get to ground. I'll send them your way. Titans, GO!_"

Raven slapped the airlock control. The hatch in front of them rolled into its housing, letting in a vicious wind that tore them out of the Icarus.

Tek staggered out last, hoping that she didn't land on anyone. The open air spun her without mercy. She lost sight of the others in the spinning blue sky, and so passed the time by trying to not throw up in her helmet. She didn't need to accidentally drown in her own bile before she got the chance to let everyone down.

_Knock that off, alley girl,_ she told herself. She stuffed the spinning landscape behind her eyelids, and thought, _This won't be like last time. You're going to be okay. You can do this._

_Provided you don't screw up again._

_No. That won't happen. I took a pill before we left. I can't even hear the monster anymore. I haven't heard it in weeks._

_The monster isn't your handicap, sport. It's the only thing keeping you alive. You're the one who'll screw this up. Just like with Cyborg in the bus. Just like with Billy in the Electronique. You're going to fail, and everyone will die because of it._

Her self-retort was cut off by the sudden arrival of the ground. The armor's gyros kept her legs underneath her where its compensators and enhancements could keep her intact while she stomped a six-foot crater into the cracking dirt. Her teeth rattled and her knees screamed, but she survived, and climbed back up to level ground a few seconds later.

A green pterodactyl circled overhead with Bushido on its shoulders. Raven flew with it, her cloak spread behind her like the wings of a predatory bird. As they landed next to her, Tek lowered her attention to the wave of robots rumbling toward them. Even several miles off, their tireless sprinting made the ground quake and blurred the horizon.

Fear clutched Tek by the throat. She planted her feet in a wide stance against the stampede, if only to keep her metal knees from knocking together. Raven stood next to her, stirring the air with arcane power that spilled from her eyes. Beast Boy and Bushido both backed behind them, drawing claw and blade in anticipation.

The silvery Icarus swooped low and slowly above the stampede. Its underside rained green bolts upon the edge of the wave. Rather than strafe them as a whole, the Icarus tracked its fire along the retreating edge of the wave, forcing it in further. As the robots continued forward, they drifted into a tight horde, whose point drove straight at where Tek stood.

Tek felt her chest unclench as their plan came together. Then her entire body clenched and wrapped around her seizing heart when the entire robot horde glowed with deadly red buildup. "No!"

Hundreds of needle-thin beams consumed the sky. They converged upon the Icarus with frightening collusion. The lasers sheared Icarus's wings from its fuselage. They punched holes in its belly, and smashed its engines. Bleeding smoke, the jet plummeted into the horizon. A plume of dust marked its fall. Seconds later, a tremor shook the Titans' feet, only to be consumed by the steady quake of the horde.

"Cyborg!" screamed Tek. She ran two steps forward before a hand of black ether held her back.

Turning, she felt chilled by Raven's glowing glower. "Cyborg did his part. We need to do ours. All of us," she added to Beast Boy behind her, who looked ready to bolt to Cyborg's rescue himself.

Trembling, Tek took her place back at Raven's side. Servos pushed the plasma repeaters from her forearms. Her visor zoomed upon the horde. Dozens of reticules lit her vision, boxing each robot with crosshairs. Her whimper became lost in the growing thunder of their approach.

Roiling soul-self burgeoned in Raven's hands. "Steady. Wait for them to close."

Tek lifted her arms. Her repeaters clacked with fear as her visor zoomed out from the horde. They were close enough to see with the naked eye now. Their red circles and white eyes bobbed with the rhythm of their intense intent.

Through the robots and the reticules, Tek came to see the interior of an electronics store. The Electronique was riddled with smoldering holes. Red bodies littered the store, all duplicates of Billy Numerous, all struck dead by her weapons. Try as she might, Tek couldn't escape the image. Dozens of corpses lay around her, the product of her lack of control. It could happen again.

_It will happen again._

Raven cupped her soul-self, focusing her mind on the enormous scythe she would shape it into to decapitate the robot horde as a whole. She braced herself, and said, "Tek, right flank. Fire." Her soul-self stretched from her hands into a lancing sickle, but stopped when she noticed a distinct lack of plasma fire coming from Tek. "Fire!" she barked.

Tek's armor stood statuesque. Inside of it, Tek shook violently. Her whimpering filtered through the grille of her helmet. Tears blurred the sight of the horde as she begged her repeaters to fire. No matter what command her mind screamed, her weapons remained silent.

The ground quaked. The robots were close enough to spit at, if the Titans' mouths hadn't gone dry with horror. Beast Boy let fly a word that did him little credit, and then shrank into the shape of a tiny turtle.

With a split second to decide, Raven yanked back her soul-self and draped it over them. Her ether hardened into a wedge canopy in time to buffer the first robots. The horde broke upon her canopy, crashing around it, pouring across her soul with force enough to rattle her very core. She collapsed to one knee, gritting her teeth against the stampede.

In seconds, the horde passed. The last robots ran past without needing to near the canopy. None of them had stopped to attack the Titans or even investigate their presence. The Titans evidently weren't worth deviating from their true goal, a city that now lay closer than ever.

Beast Boy reverted to catch Raven, who teetered as her soul-self evaporated around them. She scowled woozily at his help, but said nothing while he lifted her back to her feet.

Bushido, however, had plenty to say. "Why did you not attack?" he asked Tek in a cold tone. "You had every opportunity. We could have eliminated the bulk of the threat in mere seconds."

"Hey, lay off, Terminator!" snapped Beast Boy. "I didn't see any throwing stars knocking back that bunch."

"Had I been made primary in the attack, I would have done so to the best of my abilities. Tek's inability to perform endangers us all as well as the city," Bushido stated. Steel whispered as he sheathed his blade.

Beast Boy's skin quivered with the yearning to become any of a thousand different predators. His slitted eyes burned as he snarled, "You ever been punched by a gorilla? Your head and body are gonna need different zip codes if you don't—"

"Stop it." Raven's voice rang with startling volume. The bickering pair stilled as she said, "What's done is done. We need to get ahead of them again. They can't be more than five minutes from the suburbs at this rate. Everyone hang on."

Raven's cloak billowed with a portal that swallowed them whole. The last thing Tek saw was the trailing half of the stampede, and the lush green edge of civilization toward which it thundered. Her cold repeaters slithered back into her armor.

* * *

Cyborg reactivated his systems, and then promptly regretted it. Reports of minor damage to his superstructure poured into his CPU in the form of a full-bodied ache. He groaned and leaned forward, snapping the restraints of the pilot seat. Dust rolled off his body.

The view port had been blown out in the crash. A hot, gritty wind blew into the cockpit unimpeded. He grimaced at the barren wastes outside, and then climbed through the port and onto the nose to get a better look. Once more, he wished he had just stayed unconscious.

Icarus lay in pieces. The largest piece on which he stood was the mercifully intact fuselage. Scattered behind the jet for miles were pieces of wing and tail. A landing strut jutted upside-down from the dirt a dozen yards away. The engine assembly was a shredded mess dangling from the rear. A hard kick would probably dislodge it completely.

"I just fixed this damn thing," Cyborg grumbled, hopping down from the nose. "Why does karma hate my jet so much?"

His eyes turned telescopic and tracked the dust cloud moving east. Bitter frustration clenched his jaw as he saw the robots continuing toward the city without opposition. The rest of the Titans were nowhere in sight.

"Titans," he said into the airwaves, "this is Cyborg. The bots are still moving East. What's your situation?" Crackling silence answered him. He tapped his ear, and said, "Guys, respond. Icarus is down for the count, but I'm still mobile. What's your location? We need to meet up—"

Static attacked his ear. Cyborg hissed and shut down his communicator. He scanned the airwaves, and found the cause of the interference. "There's some kind of signal. It's jamming everything else in the area," he mused aloud, and tracked the signal's frequency and incredible strength by the readout projected above his arm. "Five gets you ten, it's the reason all those bots decided to head to the big city."

He dismissed the hologram from his arm. His telescoping vision lingered on the receding horde. Even at his fastest run, he would not catch them before they reached the city. Blinking, he changed his vision to broaden his electromagnetic perspective, and narrowed his sights upon the rogue frequency blanketing the area.

"If you can't beat 'em, cut 'em off at the source," he said as he started running. "And stop talking to yourself, Stone. It isn't healthy."

Cyborg ran a hundred yards before something new caught his attention. It wasn't a signal, but another dust cloud, this one smaller than the robot horde's eastward charge. He limited his eyes back to their usual spectrum to get a better look, and slowed to a stop. Whatever it was, it made the horde look slow by comparison, and ran in the opposite direction.

"Joyriders? My tin butt…" Cyborg muttered.

He threw his senses at the cloud, stretching sight and hearing to pierce its rolling dust. A blunted nose made from armor plating jutted from the front of the dust cloud. Probing deeper, Cyborg saw the whole picture, which only raised more questions.

What drove inside the cloud could loosely be called a tank. Giant all-terrain tires carried its enormous, sloped chassis. An excessively large cannon extended from a dome atop the tank. Smaller, pronged weapons jutted from its armor shell. In whole, the vehicle dwarfed the Titans' CUTTER, which was enough to set Cyborg on edge. But the tank's course was far more incriminating, and set Cyborg running at top speed.

"So, you found the signal too, huh? Question is, who are you, and what're you gonna do when you get to the source?" He huffed, sprinting at a rate that would get him ticketed in the city. Still, he was nowhere near as fast as the tank, which is why he steeled himself, and then barked, "Jump jets: maximum over-burn."

COMMAND NOT RECOMMENDED.

"Override."

Cyborg whooped as the soles of his feet blasted the ground with a mixture of sonic projection and rocketry. The burning combination flung him high and far and fast enough to overtake the mysterious tank. His jets exhausted themselves just as he reached the tail end of the tank.

He grabbed wildly for the back of the tank, and sank his hand into its thick plating. His chest clanged against the back, and then he dangled behind the speeding tank like a flag. Gouging handholds into the alloy, he pulled himself atop the tank onto his hands and knees. He grasped the shaft of its cannon and caught his breath through a grin. "Not a tall building, but not bad for one bound," he said.

The massive cannon came to life, swinging at him and braying a pneumatic howl. Cyborg yelped and wrapped his hands around the cannon's shaft as it swept him off the top of the tank. He dangled from the cannon, which continued to swing until he came to rest next to the tank's narrow windshield.

"_What are you doing here, Robo-Boob?_" a familiar voice boomed over external speakers. The windshield depolarized, un-tinting until Cyborg could see Gizmo sitting at the tank's controls. "_Get off! I don't pick up hitchhikers!_" the little villain yowled into a handset wired to his dash.

Several pronged weapons on the tank's side swiveled around to point at Cyborg. Green death sparked between their tines. Then the prongs burst apart beneath a stream of concentrated sonic energy that scored the side of the tank.

Swinging from one arm, Cyborg pulled back his sonic cannon. "That's okay," he shouted back, "I don't ride in crap like this. Pull over."

Gismo pounded on the inside of the windshield and screamed into his handset. "_Lousy gear grunge! You take that back! The SLICER is way better than any garbage you could crank out!_"

A hand appeared from behind Gizmo to take away his handset. Seconds later, Cyborg scowled at the new voice booming over the speakers. "_You would be wise not to get in our way, Titan. You aren't our quarry today, but that can change quickly._"

"Ravager," Cyborg snarled. His cannon became a hand, which he jabbed vehemently at the windshield. "If this robot mess is your idea of—"

"_Let me spare you the need for idle threats. The robots aren't acting of my accord. Rest assured, I plan on finding out whoever's pulling their strings and teaching him epic new definitions of pain. In the meantime, get off our tank._"

"Why don't you make me, Bucket Head?" shot Cyborg.

Mechanical hissing broke the top of Gizmo's SLICER. Cyborg saw Ravager's two-toned helmet rise up from the tank. The Tyrant climbed out and stood at its edge, watching Cyborg dangle from the cannon.

"Why not?" Ravager shot back in a reverberating growl.

Cyborg cursed himself for not thinking his taunts through. He kicked his legs, swinging back far enough to narrowly avoid the disc that Ravager flung at him. The embossed "R" on the disc brushed the tip of Cyborg's nose before streaking past him. It struck the ground with explosive results, kicking up a blast of Doldrums that flung Cyborg off the cannon.

The shockwave threw Cyborg to the top of the tank rocking on its shocks. He bellowed as he tackled Ravager, pinning the Tyrant under a quarter-ton of metal muscle. Ravager grunted in pain as Cyborg grabbed the chin of his helmet and slammed it back against the tank.

"You expect me to believe that you have nothing to do with these Slade-bots, Ravvy?" Cyborg yelled into the face in his grasp.

"No, Cyborg," Ravager grunted, his words straining to escape Cyborg's grip. "I expect you to die."

Cyborg's face twisted. "Dude, that was just terrible."

Ravager slapped Cyborg's chest. A palm-sized disc remained as he pulled his hand away. "So's this."

Power poured into Cyborg, surging his circuits. His fuses popped painfully. He arched back and cried out, letting Ravager slip from his grasp. Ravager planted both his feet on Cyborg's chest and kicked hard, knocking Cyborg to the back of the tank. Stumbling out of control, Cyborg fell from the SLICER with a yelp, and vanished into the rolling dust.

Ravager squinted into the cloud kicked up by the SLICER's wheels. He saw no sign of Cyborg in the dust. Crawling to the back of the tank, he drew another disc, and peered over the edge. Aside from his molded handprints, no sign of Cyborg remained.

The hatch behind him slid open again. Jinx's head emerged, half-hidden in a banner of her own hair, which the wind whipped into her face. "Everything okay? You need a hand?" she yelled.

Slowly, Ravager lowered his disc. "No," he yelled back, still staring over the side. "He's gone." He backed away, crawling to the hatch.

Jinx shifted aside to give him room to enter. "Gizmo says we're closing in on the control signal. It'll be another few minutes."

His glare narrowed upon the rear of the tank one last time. "Good. Let's end this farce," he said, and closed the hatch behind them.

* * *

The suburbs encroached on the Doldrums as a rabbit might upon a wolf's hunting territory: slowly, carefully, and with full knowledge that it was a middling notion at best.

Generic houses lined streets that had been cut into the desolation almost arbitrarily. Each yard was landscaped with more rock than sod because of the useless soil, giving the neighborhood a rustic, Southwestern aesthetic that was lost upon the four teenagers being dumped out of a hasty portal and into the back yard of a model home.

Raven reoriented herself as she pinched her portal shut. Beyond the first row of bland houses, she could sense confusion and panic from nearly six blocks away. Distant engine rumblings told her that the evacuation was still in progress. Her boots crunched on the gravel yard as she ran to the back fence and peered over.

The robots were mere minutes away. Their stampede speared straight for the yard in which the Titans stood, giving credit to Raven's ethereal aim, and promising imminent destruction. "We're right at ground zero for the robot invasion," she said. Lowering herself from the fence, she added, "And I never thought that sentence would come out of my mouth. As good news."

Tek's hands scraped the sides of her helmet. "This is all my fault," she moaned.

"Tek, Beast Boy, shut up," Raven said.

"Hey, I didn't—"

"You would have."

Beast Boy raised a finger to argue the accusation. When nothing cogent found its way to his open mouth, he closed it, and admitted, "Okay, I'll give you that one."

Raven tested the tall wooden fence. It swayed at her touch. "We need some kind of barrier. Something that will hold the robots back long enough for us to take them apart." Given enough time, she could build a decent wall out of the landscape itself, or even conjure a wall of magic. But s he had neither the resources nor the spells to do either quickly.

Beast Boy's ears pricked at the sound of approaching motors. He fine-tuned his senses, sifting through the mountains of background excess using techniques taught to him by Raven. It took him a few seconds. "How about some cars?" he asked. "We've got three coming up the street."

"Police?" Bushido asked, and was shushed by Raven's and Beast Boy's scowls.

"Humvees, from the sound of it. Military models, not those civilian monstrosities. Running on…" Beast Boy sniffed. "…premium unleaded. Swanky."

The urge to roll her eyes nearly overwhelmed Raven's restraint. "They're probably part of the evacuation," she said brusquely.

Three black Humvees circled the model house with a chorus of roars that startled the Titans. Gravel sprayed as the vehicles skidded past them and careened through the fence, which toppled into scrap wood. The Humvees braked in unison, forming a line behind the broken fence and the baffled Titans.

Unfurling his arms from his head, Beast Boy quipped, "They might not be."

The doors of the Humvees flew open. Red cloaks flowed out, carrying assault rifles and decked with bandoleers of ammunition. The cloaks spread throughout the yard, ignoring the Titans as they secured the area with sweeps of their hooded eyes. When they were satisfied with the area's relative safety, they lowered their weapons.

"Area secure!" one of them shouted.

More cloaks emerged from the Humvees. These men were unarmed, and moved without the zeal of their honor guard. Raven recognized the darker cloaks of the high priests of the Church of Blood. They exited the two closer vehicles to converge around the door of the third.

All of the cloaks in the yard knelt in reverence as Brother Blood and the Mother Méhymn stepped from the last Humvee. Both wore their ceremonial, ornate red robes draped bulkily over them, with their hoods drawn and their hands hidden. Blood wore his horned golden helmet and silver skull mask, behind which his eyes skimmed the scene. Mother Méhymn regarded everything, particularly the Titans, with her familiar frown of disapproval.

Raven felt a chill run up her spine as Brother Blood's gaze fell upon her from behind his skulled façade. She and the others must have looked as unsettled by his arrival as she felt, for Brother Blood lifted his hands and spoke in a reverberating voice, "Peace, please. We're here to help. How may the Church be of assistance to you in this crisis?"

Astonishment ballooned in Beast Boy's eyes. "What the hell is with the commando routine?" he asked. He reached to touch a nearby red cloak's rifle, and received a scathing look that made him think twice.

"These are my personal retainers," Blood explained, and gestured to the small task force surrounding them. "They are all expert tacticians with military experience. And their firearms are legally licensed," he added at Raven's suspicious glare.

Unimpressed, Raven stepped forward. "This situation is extremely dangerous," she said tersely. "It's 'nice' that you want to help, but the last thing this situation needs is a bunch of civilians throwing themselves in harm's—"

Upon stepping within arm's length of Brother Blood, every gun in the yard trained on Raven. Ste stopped cold beneath the touch of a dozen laser sights, and glared into the semiautomatic pistol that she hadn't even seen Mother Méhymn draw. The Mother held Raven at gunpoint with a murderous glare. "None may approach the Brother Blood," she uttered.

"—way," Raven finished in deadpan.

An inhuman growl rolled behind Beast Boy's bared fangs. His claws sank into the gravel as he crouched down, and growled, "You should really rethink who you point guns at, lady." Behind him, the soft whisper of steel and a whirr of armored pneumatics told him that Bushido and Tek were poised to join the imminent thrashing.

Brother Blood sighed impatiently as he shoved Mother Méhymn's pistol down. "Mother Méhymn, please! All of you lower your weapons this instant!" As the cloaks complied at once, Brother Blood bowed his head to Raven, earning him a contemptuous look from the Mother. "Forgive them. My retainers are very…zealous in matters of protection and decorum. Inappropriately so, at times. But they are experts at combat. I believe we can be of help," he said earnestly.

Even as he spoke, the high priests glided past the Titans and out of the yard. They stopped several feet beyond the broken fence to form a line opposing the imminent stampede. Each priest raised his arms, interlocking hands with the priest next to him. Their hooded faces bowed in concentration. Speaking as one, they began to chant in hushed tones.

Raven didn't recognize the guttural language whispered by the priests. But she did recognize a bad situation becoming worse. The robot horde was less than a minute away. She had to speak up to be heard above their thunderous footsteps. "With all due respect," Raven said with anything but, "we need to keep the robots out of the city. I don't think prayer—"

Her otherworldly senses alerted Raven to the immense power building around the high priests several seconds before it became visible to the other Titans. Motes of red light began appearing around each priest, swirling in eddies unfelt by the rest of them. The motes converged into vortices, glimmering against the deep crimson of the priests' fluttering cloaks.

The priests' chanting grew louder as if to fight the wind that only they felt. Daylight dimmed against the tempest glowing around them. Their light flared. Their voices reached crescendo. Acting as one, they threw their arms wide.

The red light rushed from the priests, growing and stretching, shooting along the edge of the desolate expanse. It loomed above their heads and reached a staggering distance to either side of their line. As the priests' chant quieted back to a whisper, their energy solidified into a translucent wall nearly twenty feet high and easily a mile long in either direction.

And none too soon. The robot horde crashed upon the wall at full speed. Those robots in the lead were crushed against the wall by the force of their brethren behind them, who pounded and clawed the red light without leaving a mark. Their eyes burned into the wall with deadly rays that did nothing. They jumped and climbed, only to slide back to the ground, and were trampled by the maddened robots still clamoring for passage.

Tek's visor hid her gape. "Holy crap," she whispered tinnily, marveling at the magic barrier.

Brother Blood's voice chimed with muted amusement at the flabbergasted look on Raven's face. "'Prayer' wasn't what I had in mind," he said. "It never hurts, though."

Raven tried to keep her composure. It wasn't easy in the face of such impressive magic. "So your plan is to keep them out long enough for your hit squad to shoot them to pieces?" she asked, and nodded to the cloaked brigade surrounding them.

"My retainers are here for the protection of the high priests," Brother Blood said, and redirected her nod to the chanting line at the barrier. The statement earned him another disapproving glare from the Mother as she accepted a rifle from one of the cloaks.

"Then why are you here?" Bushido asked politely, earning him his own dirty look from Raven and Beast Boy.

Brother Blood opened his ornate cloak with a sweep of his arms. Tactical body armor was cinched around his chest, and festooned with grenades. A long scabbard hung from his belt. He rested a hand atop its hilt, and said, "I am here for the protection of the city."

He crouched low and then vaulted over the shimmering barrier, his cloak fluttering behind him. At the apex of his leap, he drew the long sword at his hip. Its blade gleamed bone white in the sun. Then he dropped behind the wall, falling into the robots' midst. His kick knocked a wave of robots back, giving him room to land and space to fight.

Raven watched him join the battle with many questions and more than a little admiration for the man she had denounced less than an hour ago. Next to her, Mother Méhymn shook her head. "Such a showoff. He used to need a running start," she noted. Then she demonstrated, sprinting at the wall and jumping over, nearly equaling Blood's vertical prowess. Her rifle barked as she fell into the robots and jointed Blood in battle.

The Titans stood in stunned surprise at the cloaked pair wreaking destruction on the other side of the barrier. Mechanical components sprayed in lieu of gore as the robots swarmed the pious pair. Neither of them showed the slightest bit of self-concern, and stood their oil-soaked ground, chopping and shooting everything that moved.

Shaking her head lucid, Raven took to the air. "Titans, go," she said, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar words. A green buzzard flew beside her, followed quickly by Tek, who carried Bushido in her leap over the barrier.

* * *

Ravager stood in front of the SLICER and tried mightily to control his temper. It was a losing battle, which he hid behind the mask of his helmet. His gloves creaked with the tension of his fists at his sides as he glared down at Gizmo and uttered, "If this is your idea of a joke, you would be better off running right now. Not that I would miss, but you'd live slightly longer than if I just stabbed you right here, which is a growing probability."

The Tyrants and their tank were parked in the middle of the Doldrums, miles away from anything remotely resembling a geographic feature. Heat boiled out of the crusty ground in ripples, baking the few stubborn patches of brown sage still clinging to life. A lone cactus kept them company from a safe distance.

But the object of Ravager's ire was nothing natural. He fumed at the presence of a rusting mobile home that was parked nose to nose with their looming tank. The old Winnebago had been there for some time, notable by the lack of tire tracks behind it. An oversized satellite dish sat on its top. There were no signs of life, no indications that anyone was inside.

A rapier blade appeared in Ravager's hand, lightning-drawn from the sheathes on his back. The other Tyrants stepped away as Gizmo nervously waved off the attack. "Hey, cool it, Big R. This is where the signal came from, I swear!"

"Place don't look like a command center to me," Shimmer quipped, and wiped a curtain of sweat from her brow. Her bushy copper hair hung limp in the heat.

"Look at that dish! That's the only thing inside of fifty miles that could put out that kind of signal strength," Gizmo insisted.

The little imp gulped against the tip of Ravager's sword. After a moment's intimidation, Ravager lowered his blade. He stalked toward the side door of the motor home. "You had better hope there's someone in there for me to kill," he growled, "or I'll start looking for candidates out here. Guess who's topping my list?"

Tentatively, the other Tyrants followed. Mammoth bent low to flick the back of Gizmo's head. His finger knocked Gizmo to his knees. "Would've got here sooner if you hadn't swerved all over to hit every cactus patch along the way," the giant pointed out.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Gizmo snapped, "I wanted to have a little fun. So sue me."

As they stalked upon their forty foot, luxury-capable quarry, the Tyrants did not notice a stowaway drop out from underneath the SLICER's undercarriage. He fell as softly as he could, and bit his lip to muffle his cry as the cactus needles jutting from his head struck the ground. His only exposed skin was that of half his head, and it was thick with needles and brambles from the drive.

Cyborg crouched behind one of the all-terrain wheels, out of sight from the Tyrants. He used one hand to pluck the needles from his skin, wincing at each one, as his ocular scan confirmed the mobile home to be the source of the robots' control signal.

His other hand detached from his arm with a soft _clack_ and dropped to the ground. Its middle finger produced a lens while the other four worked together as impromptu legs. As the hand spider-crawled around to the front of the mobile home, Cyborg monitored its progress by remote, and continued to pluck his skin clear.

The hand-camera projected its climb up the hood of the mobile home directly into Cyborg's brain. It was as if he were sitting on the hood himself, staring in through the windshield like a disembodied voyeur.

Inside the mobile home, curtains were drawn across tiny windows, keeping it in cool darkness. The interior had been gutted and refurbished into a narrow chamber filled with computer equipment. Three enormous servers fed into a single workstation with four monitors, two keyboards, and a small mountain of emptied energy drinks. A small, unused cot was shoved up against the wall, ignored by the person sitting at the work station.

The light from the monitors made a silhouette of the robots' master. But when the side door of the mobile home shuddered under a pounding fist, Cyborg caught sight of a wave of long hair that followed the startled jerk of her head. She stood up and scrambled for a gun on the table as the door burst inward.

Mammoth pulled his fist out of the empty door frame. Light spilled in as he moved aside. In the glimpse of daylight, Cyborg studied their mystery foe.

Her long hair was platinum white, stunningly so, like a drift of new-fallen snow. She possessed a lithe body that rippled with subtle strength beneath a simple tank top and khaki shorts. Under different circumstances, Cyborg would have thought her beautiful. But the compact Forty-Five she swung toward the door made her dangerous instead.

Ravager stormed in, weapon disc cocked and ready to fly. He found her in an instant. His whole body stiffened.

Through his shotgun microphone, Cyborg heard Ravager exclaim, "You?"

The girl seemed confused. She half-lowered her pistol. Her crystal blue eyes widened and welled. "Dad?" she asked.

"Dad?" Jinx exclaimed from outside the Winnebago. Cyborg echoed the sentiment, and zoomed his spy camera upon the stunning teen. She was no younger than sixteen, and certainly no daughter of Ravager's, if Cyborg's guesses about the Tyrant were true.

Ravager half-lowered his disc. His voice lost its anger in favor of bitter annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here, Rose?" he demanded.

At the utterance of her name, Rose's eyes narrowed with recognition. "Oh, it's you. Hello, Grant."

Pale, crackling hands shoved Ravager aside. Jinx stormed into the Winnebago with a trail of hex following her stormy eyes. She sized up the beautiful blonde, and then turned her glare upon Ravager. "And just who is this, 'Grant?'" she asked in a dangerous tone.

With unparalleled annoyance, Ravager said, "Her name is Rose Worth."

"My name is Rose Wilson," Rose snapped, bristling. She lifted her gun again, prompting Ravager and Jinx to re-arm their respective idioms as she declared, "And I'm Slade's true heir. So where is he, brother dearest?"

Cyborg stared by proxy at the family-reunion-slash-Mexican-standoff, growing more confused by the second. Facing two heirs-apparent to the Titans' worst enemy and the army that—by his calculations—had just reached the edge of the city, Cyborg had only moments to take down seven armed and exceedingly pissed off villains and shut down the control signal.

"I am so screwed," Cyborg muttered.

**To Be Continued**


	18. Legacy: Mettle

**

* * *

  
Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

_**Legacy**: Mettle_

"You have a sister? And you never told me!"

The shrill outburst consumed too much precious space in the claustrophobically small interior of the mobile home. Ravager could tolerate the lack of elbow room. He could tolerate the interminable heat, which was worse and stuffier here than outside in the Doldrums. It taxed his tolerance to the limit, but he could even bear the unwelcome sight of the lithe platinum blonde holding a gun at him from behind her computer terminal.

But the high-pitched scrape of Jinx's voice against his very brain as she cried outrage over something as inane as the subject of his family acted as the proverbial straw on his camel's back. "Jinx, you cannot seriously want to talk about this now," he said.

Hex sparked in Jinx's eyes and filled her hands, which she kept leveled at Rose, waiting for a clear moment in which to strike. "Oh, sure. I mean, why tell me about someone important enough to point a gun at you? I'm just some chick you're banging right now, after all," she snarked.

Rose's nose crinkled. "Really, Grant? Her? I guess she looks a little like your mom. But what's with the cotton candy head?"

"You leave my mother out of this!" Ravager barked.

Fingering her hair, Jinx scowled on several different levels, and snapped, "What does that mean? Grant—"

"**Ravager**," he snapped.

With flittering eyebrows and twinkling glacier eyes, Rose lilted, "Ooh, 'Ravager.' Are you a big bad super villain now, 'Ravager?' Where's your cape?"

"Shut up!" he bellowed, and coiled his disc tighter, his arm aching to hurl it at her.

"Who are you?" Jinx demanded. "What are you even doing out here? And why are you squatting in the world's most geeked-out rattle trap? This is, like, half a step up from a refrigerator box with computers drawn on the side."

"I told you, I'm Rose Wilson. I'm Grant's sister," Rose said impatiently.

"'Half' sister," Ravager said. "This little bastard showed up one day claiming to be my father's daughter. She's been sniffing around our family ever since, trying to weasel something out of us. She's nothing but a scavenger."

"Slade Wilson is my father!" Rose yelled. Her face purpled with rage. "All I ever wanted was for him, for all of you, to accept that. He was a war hero and an incredible man, and I'm going to prove once and for all that I'm worthy of his name."

"Is that what all this robot stupidity is about?" Jinx asked with a sneer. "It's just one big family pissing contest?"

"She isn't family!" Ravager bellowed.

"Don't call me stupid!" Rose screamed over him.

The mobile home buzzed with the waning echo of their outbursts. All three teenagers' arms trembled in the long silence that followed. Gun, disc, and crackling hex stood poised to launch a battle upon the constrictive interior of the Winnebago. Scowls deepened and tempers smoldered, waiting for an excuse, an opportunity, to ignite.

Lowering her voice, Rose asked, "So what happens now, Grant? Are you going to wait here with me until our father shows up?"

His eyes widened slightly, the only surprise his mask would let slip. "That's why you're doing this?" he asked.

"Well, duh," she snapped. "I only left a trail a mile wide with that control signal. That's why I thought you were him when you showed up. I knew he would ignore such a sloppy attack and head straight for its source. It was the surest way to get his attention."

"Wait. I thought your dad was dead," Jinx said to Ravager.

He scowled at Rose. "He is dead. Which means not only is this game of your moronic, but also pointless. So call off my father's robots and give me control, and I might let you walk away from this with all of your body parts accounted for."

"You're such an idiot, Grant. There was never any body found. Slade's alive!" Rose exclaimed. Cooling, she added, "And I can put a bullet through one of those eyeholes in your silly little mask. So threats aren't going to get you anywhere but dead."

"There was never any body because the Titans annihilated it. That super powered lout of a leader vaporized him. If Dad were alive, he would have contacted me by now. I would have heard something. What do you have that makes you so certain he survived?" he growled.

Rose rolled her eyes, but kept her gun steady. "A brain, for one. I dug around until I found one of his hidden Caribbean accounts. There's been activity on it within the last three months. What do you think that is, a postmortem withdrawal?"

"I think it's carrion scum like you," he snarled. "Hanger-ons, or old associates. That old coot, Wintergreen, for one. Father dealt with criminals. I sincerely doubt that they would be content to leave his money to rest in peace."

"Oh, now you're just being dense," said Rose.

Hesitantly, Jinx glanced at Ravager, and said, "I hate to say it, but she has a point. Nobody ever produced a body, and Slade was one tough SOB. And that bank thing is—"

"Whose side are you on?" he roared.

"Easy," Jinx said. "I'm on your side. Say the word, and her body is dust in the wind, okay? I'm just saying, maybe your dad isn't dead like you thought. That's a good thing, right?"

Ravager's scowl remained affixed to Rose. His arm trembled. "Last chance," he told Rose. "Drop the gun, walk away, and never come back."

"Grant, we can work together," Rose said, changing gears. Her gun never wavered, but her voice softened with possibility. "If this doesn't work, we can try something else. We can team up. We can look for Slade together. I don't want any handouts or anything. I just…I want a chance to show him what kind of daughter he has. Is that so bad?"

Ravager laughed in cold rebuttal. "Team up? I hate to break it to you, but I've already got a team. The majority of it is standing outside right now. With one word from me, they'll tear your little wagon to the ground with you in it like you were tissue paper. In fact, after this little desert goose chase you've put us through, I imagine they're eager—"

The wall of the Winnebago caved inward with a sharp shriek of rending metal. A dent the size of a basketball pushed in between where Rose and Ravager stood. All three teens jumped at the sound and whirled their readied attacks upon the dent. Hearts pounding, they listened in anticipation, forgetting their mutual antipathy for a moment. A muffled groan filtered through the dent, with a thud following shortly after.

"Shit!" Gizmo's scream carried through the open door. "Ambush!"

Ravager glanced at Rose. Thoroughly confused, she lowered her gun with a nod. Their temporary alliance rushed through the door of the Winnebago with Ravager in the lead. All three of them stopped cold at the sight that greeted them in the oppressive heat outside.

The dent had been Mammoth's doing, though not by choice. He lay by the Winnebago, rubbing his head and glaring at the reason for his double headache. A set of red arms and legs extended from under either side of Mammoth, with a soft groan wafting up. Gizmo crouched by his side with a pair of cannons extended from his tech pack. Shimmer stood to Mammoth's other side, stirring the air with her power.

Behind the glow of his sonic cannon, Cyborg stood against the sudden rush from the mobile home with the SLICER at his back. A metal spider scurried across the ground to leap into his empty wrist, where it became his hand once more. Stony resolve composed half of his face, the other half remaining steely.

"That little kiss I blew at Mammoth was one of the lower settings," Cyborg called to the Tyrants. "Any of y'all wanna try one of the higher settings, go ahead and make a move. I'm feeling good and twitchy after all that yapping."

Ravager coiled his arm again. His explosive disc trembled with tension. His glare threatened to leap from his mask and kill Cyborg itself, reality notwithstanding. "Damn your metal hide!" Ravager roared. "How many times are you going to jam your bionic cadaver into my business and foul everything up?"

"Versus the number of times you pop up to screw the city with your retreaded villain remix? I'd say that ratio's gonna stay one-to-one, Ravvy. Now drop the Frisbee and give it up before I make you shake, rattle, and roll," Cyborg said.

Rose's gun cocked noisily at Cyborg, earning her the full attention of his sonic cannon. "What is this, 'Alpha Male Posturing One-Oh-One?' Somebody just shoot him already!"

Cyborg glared at their newest player. "This isn't exactly tin foil I'm sporting. And it goes all the way to the bone, in case you were thinking about shooting my meal ticket here," he said, and tapped his cheek.

"Yeah? How bulletproof is that shiny red bullseye on your face?" she cracked, and shifted her aim to his left optic.

"You'll be up to your ears in a sonic ass-kicking before your finger even twitches," he promised her.

Gizmo's cannons lit with green fire, their barrels aglow in anticipation. "Go ahead and shoot, y' glitchy windbag. I'll punch a hole through you so big that I'll be able to drive my tank in your guts."

"It's one versus six, Cyborg," Jinx told him. "More, if Billy isn't dead under Mammoth."

"Four," he retorted. "Shimmer and Mammoth can't do jack without getting closer." The observation drew scathing silence from the siblings, and more groaning from underneath Mammoth.

"Even still, you're done. We all know you won't aim to kill. You know every one of us will," Jinx sang through a wicked smile.

Cyborg stared down the sinister seven, glad that his cybernetics prevented such human failings like hyperventilation or fearful trembling. His rock-steady cannon and even breath certainly maintained the illusion that he wasn't worried in the least. He needed that illusion to buy more time for his wafer-thin plan to take effect.

Lifting his arm, Cyborg rested his aim upon the immense satellite dish atop Rose's mobile home. The aperture of his cannon narrowed to its tightest configuration. "Then I guess I'd better make my one shot count. Say bye-bye to your robot control."

"No!" cried Rose.

Ravager lowered his disc to clutch his side for a deep belly laugh. "That's it? That's your threat? I was going to blow this eyesore off the map anyway. Go ahead and shoot. Then we can kill you and get the hell out of this dirt hole."

Outrage burst from Rose's cool composure. "You can't do that! Those are my robots! Do you know how long I've worked just to get them?"

Gizmo scoffed and jabbed his cannons at Cyborg. "He's not gonna blow up shit. He knows that without a command signal, the bots will go berserk and tear apart everything they see, just like last time. It's a bluff."

"Maybe," Cyborg drawled. "Or maybe I'm stuck in a no-win scenario, so I figure if there's no way to stop them outright, the best thing I can do is make sure you can't use them."

"Go ahead," Ravager said again. "I don't care one whit about them. This whole endeavor has been a waste of time and sweat. If you could hurry this along—"

"NO!" Rose screamed. Her platinum hair whirled as she grabbed Jinx by the throat from behind and jammed the pistol into the witch's temple.

The standoff shifted immediately. Ravager's hand snapped at Rose with a saber that had been drawn faster than any eye could follow. The tip of his blade dug into the soft flesh of Rose's throat, but did nothing to sway her pistol from Jinx's head.

Jinx quelled the hex in her hands and remained as still as possible with a disgusted look on her face. Mammoth and Shimmer both looked to the new conflict, rooted by confusion. Billy pulled himself from the ground and dizzily split into three to keep watch on all facets of the standoff. But Gizmo kept his hateful glare and lethal arsenal locked on Cyborg.

"Power down your laser beam, Tin Man, or I swear I'll spread her magic little brains all over her boyfriend," Rose shouted. Twisting the pistol's barrel into Jinx's temple, she hissed, "And no hocus pocus. I even feel a tingle of hoo-doo, and you get to find out if you're faster than a speeding frikkin' bullet."

"Pull that trigger, and you'll hit the ground before she does," Ravager promised Rose. "I'll carve and peel your face until you look like your namesake. A raw, bloody little rosebud."

Jinx bristled beneath Rose's gunpoint. "How about we come up with a solution that doesn't involve me dying? Just give her the goddamn robots!"

"Not happening," Cyborg and Ravager said together.

"Titan, lower your noise gun before Rose does something she won't live to regret. Rose, let Jinx go before **I** do something you won't live to regret," continued Ravager.

"Not until he gets the hell away from my transmitter!" Rose said.

"What is the frakking problem here, people? I told you, there's no way ol' gear guts is gonna let that horde trash his precious city," scoffed Gizmo. "This is all a big bluff. Let's just blast him already!"

The corner of Cyborg's mouth tweaked. "Bluff? I wouldn't bet on it. I've got four of the heaviest heavy hitters on the planet standing between Jump City and your daddy's screwed up leftovers. Any one of them could handle this problem on their own without breaking a sweat. I guarantee, with all of them working together, the city won't even see the robots before they're stomped out hard. I'm just here to see if I can't make the cleanup a little easier for everybody."

* * *

With the edge of the city behind a wall of red power at his back, which had been erected by allies he didn't fully trust, Beast Boy could not afford to take chances. As soon as he cleared the wall with the wings of a buzzard, he morphed and enlarged, and fell to the ground as a dagger-toothed Utahraptor. His clawed feet crushed two robots whole, while his jaws halved a third, and his tail batted a fourth.

The animal in him howled at the stench of the pneumatic fluid pouring from his mouth. He shunned his darker half, which longed to take this new shape far from the battle in search of tastier fare. Or better still, why hunt, when morsels could be found at hand? The swordsman in the arms of their other mechanical aberration made his mouth water even from half a battlefield away. The smell of the doe in the blue cloak made his blood boil with hunger.

Beast Boy tried to channel these other instincts into the battle, to turn his urges upon the swarm of robots around them. For every robot he smashed, countless more took its place. His claws ripped their armor like paper. His hide rebuffed their powerful blows. They piled upon him, forcing him to lash out with greater ferocity.

He did not like taking a predator's shape. Each time he did, he felt it take away another piece of who he was to feed his beast. The sweet scent of his friends' fear, the adrenaline rush of combat, all made the beast stronger. Each time, Beast Boy felt less like himself and closer to becoming that monster in the jungle he had unleashed.

Still, he fought. Still, the robots came, coordinating their attacks in twos and threes that forced him to be come faster, stronger, fiercer. Still, his beast thrived. Still, he gave up more of who he was for the sake of others.

His foot plunged through the stomach of a charging robot, shearing it in half. Its legs careened into the force wall behind him. Its torso clutched his leg, clinging to unlife with murderous resolve. The whole of its power erupted through its glare, sweeping through the meat and bone of Beast Boy's knee. Agony struck Beast Boy out of his lizard skin. He fell as an elfin human bereft of a leg.

Beast Boy's howl tore Raven's focus out of the soul-sickles extending from her hands. Her ethereal constructs dissipated as she looked down and watched Beast Boy topple backwards while his shin fell forward with a robot wrapped around it. His name exploded from her lips. "Garfield!"

She dove in a whirl of cloak and thrust her other self into the pack of robots scavenging the injured Titan. A wave of black ether threw the robots bodily from atop him, and then sealed into a translucent dome as Raven landed. More robots pounded on her dome in frenzied effort to slaughter both Titans inside. She ignored them, and took Beast Boy's contorted face into her hands.

"It's going to be okay," she said, wincing as his claws wrapped around her arms. He convulsed underneath her, forcing her to pin him with her legs. She said it over and over, trying to reach him with the impromptu mantra: "It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay."

She steeled herself with a deep breath, and cringed at his arching, sobbing howl. Her defenses lowered to accept his pain in order to heal him. But instead of the amputational torment she expected, she felt a curious tingle in her own leg. She looked back at his stub with a confused frown as he thrashed beneath her.

Raven gasped. The scorched stump at Beast Boy's knee bulged and rippled as if a swarm of flies were trapped beneath his skin. Before her eyes, the wound burst open bloodlessly. Bone stretched from the knee, glistening white, growing at an incredible rate. Muscle and sinew wrapped around it, racing the bone to the end, where both branched out and wove into a clawed foot. Green skin emerged over the dripping muscle. In seconds, Beast Boy had a bare, new leg sticking out of the charred hole in his pants.

Beast Boy gulped for air as Raven climbed off of him. Both of them stared agog at his new leg, and then at his former leg still trapped in the deadened robot's grasp. Their eyes converged, hers, astonished, his, terrified.

"Garfield…that was…" Raven came from another world, and lived a magical life on a daily basis. But the ability to spontaneously, nigh-instantly regenerate an entire limb floored her. "How…?"

He grasped her arm with manic fear. "Don't tell anyone. Please," he pleaded.

"Why—?"

"**You can't tell anyone!**"

Rivulets of black bile ran under his claws, staining her ashen skin. Raven scowled, and rested a hand on his crushing grasp. "You're hurting me," she told him.

He glanced down and saw her blood. Something wild sparked in his eyes. His nostrils flared. Then he yanked back his hand and clutched his hair, curling into himself with hyperventilating gasps. His new foot dug into the dirt with claws that were slightly longer than they had been before.

"I'm sorry," he squeaked. "I didn't mean to… Please don't…"

"I won't tell anyone," she said, pressing down on the cuts in her arm. His claws had barely scratched her, just enough to break the skin. A modicum of magic and a brief doubling of their sting sealed the cuts without leaving scars. Closing the wounds seemed to ease Beast Boy's shuddering. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He traced the tips of his clawed toes. The foot tingled, but otherwise felt fine. He never would have guessed it was brand new. "I…yeah. Yeah, I'm set."

Pressure mounted between Raven's temples. She looked up and saw a battalion of robots clawing at them through her dome, which began to crack beneath the strain. She threw her will back into the dome and said, "Then let's go."

The dome burst outward, flinging robots in every direction as the two Titans rejoined the battle. Beast Boy threw himself into a new shape, that of a tremendous ankylosaurus, and began smashing every mechanical thing in sight with his club tail.

Raven gathered her soul-self to slash anew when her cloak jerked her out of the air in the hands of two robots. The pair swung her hard into the ground, stunning her with the force of her landing. She coughed and rolled over to shield herself from their glowing eyes.

The two robots menacing her lost their heads to the sweep of a bone-white blade. As their bodies crumpled, they revealed their executioner, who lowered his sword and offered Raven a helping hand. "You need to watch your cloak," Brother Blood said. "These things are grabby."

She scowled at his smirking tone. Then she thrust her hand at him and launched a stream of soul-self. Blood staggered back as the soul-self split and curved around his body to converge upon a robot that had leapt to catch him unawares. The black ether shredded the robot into metal confetti that rained upon the flinching Blood.

Standing on her own, Raven brushed clean her vestments, and said, "Likewise."

More robots rushed their position. Raven stepped toward Blood, reluctantly putting her back to his. Components crunched underfoot as they turned in tune with one another's footwork, facing the endless horde around them with preternatural collusion. Lasers sizzled against barriers of soul-self that swept from Raven's hands, and bounced off the deft parry of Blood's bone blade.

"Admit it," Blood said over his shoulder, shouting above the roar of the battle. "You thought I'd be dead by now, and here I am, saving you."

The horde closed around them. Oil sprayed from the ends of Raven's soul-talons, which she slashed through robot after furious robot. She wrenched a robot in half, flinching at the geyser from its pneumatic entrails. "Congratulations on not being hamburger. But you hardly saved me. I can take care of myself."

Blood kicked a sparking robot off the end of his sword, and then decapitated it with one swing. "Oh, no question," he quipped.

Raven spared a glance back and felt grudging admiration for Brother Blood. He possessed unmistakable prowess with his blade, which twained the armored terrors around them without any visible effort. Her own ethereal blades couldn't cleave the robots so smoothly. "What's that blade made of?" she asked.

"This sword is our greatest relic. It's called 'The Hand,'" Blood replied in mid-swing. "Legend claims that the sword was crafted from the body of our Lord. It will strike down any foe of any power thanks to His divine blessing."

She grunted, bumping backs with Blood as a wave of robots crashed against her soul-shield. "Cute story," she said.

His sword flashed over the top of her hood. Its blade parted her soul-shield as though it were a curtain of water, sending shivers through Raven's core. The entire line of robots harrying her shield was cleaved at their waists. They fell, deactivated, as Raven retracted the shreds of her soul-self and glared at Blood.

Even through his mask, his smile was palpable. "You say 'story.' I say 'faith,'" he said.

She grabbed the clasp of his cloak and yanked him toward her, pulling him out of the clutches of the next wave of robots. Her shield reappeared whole to protect his back. With her face all but pressed into his chest, she fought, and snapped, "Faith? I suppose you think your magic sword will make a convert out of me, too."

He put his arms around her to parry laser blasts aimed at her back. "If you choose so, certainly. Would you like a pamphlet?"

Her shield stretched with tendrils to bat the robots away from Blood's back. She glared through him with ethereal senses to guide her soul-self. "I have no intention of being baptized in blood," she told him.

Blood's swordplay bent his face toward hers. His green eyes narrowed inside the silver skull. "The Church stopped advocating blood rites some time before Christianity's second Crusade. That's an unfair characterization we've struggled with for centuries."

"So sayeth Brother Blood," Raven said.

"Blood is life. It's the binding tie between us all. Why shouldn't we celebrate the life we all share?" he countered.

A stray blast struck the hilt of his sword. Blood cried and drew back as his sword clattered behind Raven's feet. The robots pounced upon their chance, pouring behind Raven to outflank her.

Raven grabbed his clasp again, this time jerking him down to his knees. "Stay down!" she shouted. Ether roiled in her hands as she gathered her self, closing her eyes to shut away the thousand distractions of the battlefield. Her will focused into a single point, which she shaped with a shout: "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!"

Soul-self swirled from her gesture into a sphere of wire-thin tendrils. Another gesture exploded the sphere, expanding its tendrils through the robots' ranks. The tendrils whipped through the robots seemingly without effect.

Then the robots jerked and staggered. Tilting forward, the foremost robots slid apart into neatly cut slices, clattering onto the ground. The rest proceeded to fall into cross-sectional pieces, at the passing of her tendrils.

Brother Blood lifted his head to stare in wonder at the twenty yards of scrap metal encircling them. Oil dripped from his helmet's horns as he looked up to the drenched, heaving, incredible sorceress looming over him. "Wow," he whispered.

Raven smirked. As she bent to return his sword, she quipped, "Concentrate on protecting all that blood before—"

The instant her fingers brushed the sword, Raven felt a terrible rage swallow her whole. She collapsed with a snarl as every last defense she possessed was shattered by the presence of the sword. Hate, pure and unyielding, plunged into her very soul, where it awakened the demonic nature she worked every moment of every day to suppress.

She tried to pull her hand away, but the sword held her fast. She clutched her forehead, which burned with the emergence of two more eyes. Her four-tiered scowl glowed with crimson power, power not of her own, power forced upon her by a distant presence she had known and feared all her life.

Brother Blood took the sword from her grasp. "Thank you," he said. "I…" He stopped to watch her face contort back into a pained semblance of normalcy. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Raven panted, doubled over in the wake of the baleful surge. She opened her single set of eyes, colored twilight once more, and saw him reaching to help her. Her heart leapt into her throat. She shoved his hand aside and backed away, terrified.

Unknowingly, she backed into a renewed surge of robots, whose claws hung poised to dice her as she had their brethren. But a barking rifle spared her their grisly intent. She flinched at the burst fire that shot past her, and then looked over the collapsing robots at her rescuer.

"Keep alert, children," Mother Méhymn chided them both sharply, and lowered the barrel of her rifle. "These monsters come without end. Brother Blood! Keep your hand on that sword or I will staple it there."

Blood caught Raven's glance as he approached. Once more, his smile was palpable in spite of the skull mask. "Yes, Mother Mayhem," he answered. His hidden smile went unanswered, as Raven took to the air and left the Church's leaders without a word.

Mother Méhymn scowled at her insolent high leader, and then broke from him before the insanity teeming around them could draw upon their pause. She wove through the horde, ducking claws, vaulting over wreckage. Pins popped from her thumbs as she loosed a pair of hand grenades behind her and rode the shockwave of the explosion into the air, her cloak billowing behind her.

Metal hands cradled her fall. She slid from Tek's hands with a curt, "Thank you, child," and then plunged back into the fray. Her rifle marked her passing, leaving robotic ruin sparking in her tracks.

Tek marveled at the woman's bravery. Her own heart thundered with fear deep inside the alloyed folds of her armor. She felt a feathery tap against her back, and turned to find the remains of a robot that had crushed itself by trying to tackle her. Three more stood behind its wreckage with eyes aglow to blast her. She recoiled on instinct.

Tiny spheres detonated at the robots' feet, filling the air with a thick haze that turned red with the robots' confused lasers. Flashing steel cut through the haze and the robots. When the smoke cleared, Bushido stood over their disjointed bodies.

"Why do you hesitate?" he demanded of Tek. Sweat poured from his face, mixed with the fluid of his enemies. His shoulders bobbed with ragged breath. His katana ran black with oil.

"I just…" She looked at her arms, and the deadly cannons extended over her wrists. Each time she tried to use them, her mind forcibly returned her back to that moment in the Electronique. Each time she looked into the faces of Slade's resurrected army, she saw herself curled inside the bus, frozen by her own fear.

More robots leapt upon Tek from behind in her moment of introspection. A wave of Bushido's hand put shuriken in their eyes, blinding them to his lightning sword. Their heads fell from their bodies as Bushido grasped Tek by the frills on her helmet.

"What did I tell you when we first came to the city together?" he told her, dragging her visor down to meet his stern face. "You cannot afford doubt. It will kill—"

He screamed at the glancing touch of a laser. The sleeve of his keikogi blackened as he jerked to one side, allowing the blast to continue into Tek. It curdled the white enamel of her armor and startled her, but nothing more.

Tek caught Bushido and wrapped him in her embrace, protecting him from the laser blasts that followed his cry. Smoke curled from her armor beneath the energy onslaught as she pressed his face toward her visor. "Ry! Ry, are you okay?"

Groaning, he tried to move. Her arms may as well have been a metal cocoon. "Release me," he said. "If you will not fight, then I must."

"You're hurt," she said. "Hang on, I'll get you back over the wall and—"

"Release me!" he bellowed. The heat of the lasers made him sweat and pant. He struggled in vain against her grasp, and said, "You will not remove me from this fight. Remove yourself, if you want to do some real good. You're endangering the rest of us."

"I want to help, I do!" she sobbed. "It's just, the last time, I—"

"Last time! Always last time!" he snarled. "The past is immutable, the future, unknowable. Live in the present. Change the here and now! Or get out of the way for those who have the courage to do so."

This time, when he shoved, Tek let him go. He stumbled from her grasp as a green lion batted aside the robots that were blasting Tek. The lion shrank into Beast Boy, who steadied Bushido with a hand to the shoulder that inadvertently brushed the swordsman's burn.

"Time for hugs later, killer. Tek can take care of herself. Let's go!" Beast Boy told him.

The shapeshifter became a grizzly bear that scooped Bushido up with his snout and charged deeper into the battle. A last, telling look lingered on Bushido's face as he gazed back at Tek. Then he turned to face the horde with katana held high.

Tek watched them go, feeling shamed by how backwards Beast Boy's words had been. She had spent her morning whining to Doctor Hayden about the past she didn't have, whereas now, the past she did have kept her frozen with fear of failure. She couldn't fire her guns for fear of killing someone, which meant that countless more would die when the robots breached the magic barrier. She couldn't bear the thought of failing the Titans again, and failed them all the same because of it.

A hollow gonging sound pulled her visor down. There, she saw herself, bereft of armor or skin suit, dressed in her jeans and Batman T-shirt. This Tek cackled as she dented the armor's alloy with her bare fists.

"Little Tekkie, little Tekkie, always crying about what she can't do!" her other self sang viciously. "Wah, wah, wah, I can't open a door! My guns don't work! I don't want to fight! I don't want to fight!"

Screaming, Tek brought her massive fist down upon her laughing doppelganger. She hammered her knuckles into the girl's dark hair over and over. "I—DON'T—WANT—TO BE—YOU!" Tek shrieked between blows. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

She punched until her armored knuckles dug into the earth. Panting, sobbing, she pulled her fist back and stared into the warped faceplate of a drone robot, which stared back at her from its fist-shaped crater. It had been offline since her first punch, and now lay scattered in flattened chunks. It was not, nor had actually ever been, a laughing girl with deep-seated emotional problems.

She stared down into the wreckage until it grew too blurry to see. The inside of her visor ran with her tears, muddying the battlefield. More lasers struck her charring armor. She was beyond noticing them.

Tek was so sick of herself. She was sick of never feeling right, like she was supposed to be better than she was. She'd defeated herself before the robots had ever gotten to her. This time she didn't even have the excuse of her monster, which was caged behind her new medication. She'd beaten herself. She was sick of herself. She was sick to death of her whiney, useless self.

_But didn't I just kill that self?_

_No. That was a robot. Don't be crazy._

_Too late for that. You're already hallucinating that you killed your weaker ego._

_But then, if you're crazy, you can't tell the difference, right?_

Tek's plasma repeaters slid into place. Her sob became a growl became a scream became a roar as she whirled her aim upon the teeming horde gathered before the wall. Her blurry visor put green boxes around those she distantly remember were her friends, and colored red everyone else. White light filled the battlefield for an instant before collapsing into her weapons to pour out in staccato bursts of pure destruction.

Plasma bolts burned through the army, tearing robots apart with even the most fleeting of blows. Tek's fire swept the battlefield like the spray of a hose. Beast Boy and Bushido flattened against the ground as bolts lanced overhead to decimate the robots they were battling.

Over the screaming and the sound of robot demise, Beast Boy shouted to Bushido, "What the hell did you say to her?"

Bushido shrugged as best he could on the ground. The movement ignited the pain in his arm. "The right thing?" he said uncertainly. When he looked again to Tek, his proud smile fell into fearful disarray, and he shouted her name in warning. "Tek!"

She couldn't hear him. Nor could she see the quartet of robots that ambushed her from behind. They leapt onto her back, her shoulders, and her arms. But rather than attacking, they clamped onto her armor, their chests glowing bright. The glow surged, and the robots detonated, swallowing Tek in fire and thunder.

The blast shook Beast Boy back onto his feet. He exchanged his human legs for those of a cheetah to streak across the distance to the column of smoke where Tek had been. In the unbearable seconds it took him to reach her, the smoke thinned into a fine screen. Tek's massive outline wobbled in the smoke and emerged as a blackened, sparking mass.

She dropped to her knees as Beast Boy reached her. "Tek!" he cried as soon as he had human lips again. He grasped her helmet, and then yowled and yanked his hands away from the superheated char. "Tek! Speak to me!"

Her entire upper body lolled. If she fell, Beast Boy would have to jump aside or risk being crushed. Her tinny voice belted from the armor's grille in a punch-drunk shout. "Did I get them?"

Beast Boy couldn't help but smile. "Yeah," he said.

"What?" she shouted, turning her helmet.

He filled her visor with a thumbs-up. "Yes," he shouted.

"Good," she sloppily shouted back. "I was scared, but I shot, I shot guns, my guns, and they all kerploded. What's ringing? Are the robots ringing?" She looked around, swayed and confused.

The dizzy question gave Beast Boy pause. He and Tek had been standing still for several seconds. By all rights, they should have been swarmed by now. He looked back across the battlefield, searching all along the edge of the red barrier that stretched into the distance.

Every robot on the field had stopped cold, some of them in mid-attack. They stood as statues, blank eyes unfocused, battered bodies frozen. Raven hung in the air with a motionless robot clutched in her soul-talon, readied to smash it when its lifelessness had struck her with surprise. Bushido and Brother Blood were likewise uncertain of their enemies' sudden stop. Only Mother Méhymn continued putting bullets into the robots' heads like a merciless executioner.

Beast Boy started to voice their collective question when he heard the nine-note musical summons of his communicator. He pulled the device from his belt, read its seven word message, and grinned. "Ha!" he crowed. "Way to go, Vic."

"What?" shouted Tek.

* * *

"It doesn't have to be this way, Grant," Rose said. She spoke carefully so as not to pierce her neck on the saber's point. "We can still work together on this. Think about how proud Slade would be if we showed up with a dead Titan and his army all wrapped up and ready to go."

Ravager glared at her, with Jinx caught between them. "That would be so much more convincing if you weren't still holding a gun to Jinx's head. Let her go before I give you another hole to breathe through."

Rose matched his glare, and then guided his gaze with hers. "Not until your metal buddy drops his gun, and you get your sword out of my face."

"Rose, listen—"

"No, you listen, Grant!" She thumbed the hammer of her gun back with a click that deafened Ravager to everything but the sound of Rose's voice. "You have three seconds to drop your sword and get the tin man away from my transmitter, or I'm going to empty Pinky's head here and now!"

Nervous sweat budded on Jinx's face. She stared at Ravager, stiffened with fear. Her magic was powerful, but not so much that she could survive a bullet to the head. Elemental magic would be too slow in killing Rose to stop her pistol, and chaos magic might even set the gun off. Bad luck was bad luck, even for her. "Grant…?"

When Ravager made no move, Rose dug the pistol barrel into the side of Jinx's head, making the witch wince. "One! Two! Th—!"

"Okay!" Ravager dropped his saber and stepped back with his hands raised. "Okay. Don't hurt her. You win."

"Bullshit!" Shimmer and Mammoth exclaimed in unison, wearing identical expressions of disgust.

All three Billy Numerous duplicates hung their shoulders in disappointment. "Aw, boss, you folded like a one-legged mule in a race!" one Billy said.

One of the others added, "Plum lost some dang ol' face there, he did, Billy."

A smug victory shone in Rose's smile. "Really, Grant? Really? You have lousy taste. Now, get him away from my transmitter, and you can go back to playing super villain with your little girlfriend here."

Reluctance bounced between the remainder of the Tyrants in a look as Ravager collected his saber with a grim swipe. All of them, save delighted Gizmo, trudged toward Cyborg with bitterness dripping from their scowls. Jinx remained in Rose's grasp, twice as bitter for being made the damsel in distress.

Cyborg kept his panic bottled behind a cool frown. He needed a moment more for his plan to work. From the look of the Tyrants marching on him, he had much less than a minute. Keeping his cannon trained on the satellite dish, he said, "That must really stick in your craw, being outmaneuvered by your kid sister, 'Grant.'"

Ravager drew his other saber and crossed them into makeshift shears. "Enjoy that tongue while you still have it," he said.

"I wouldn't take it too hard. From what I can see, Slade wouldn't have wanted either one of you," Cyborg continued with a shrug.

The callous statement rocket Ravager in his tracks. He swung his swords out to stop his other Tyrants, much to the consternation of Gizmo. Though he couldn't see it, Ravager could feel Rose's ire building alongside his own behind him. "Shut your filthy mouth, Titan," he growled.

"Just kill him, Grant!" Rose yelled, red-faced.

Snickering, Cyborg said, "It's actually kind of cute. I mean, dressing up like him? Resurrecting his greatest hits? Too bad Slade wasn't into cute. He was big on talent. I guess that's why both of his Apprentices were Titans."

"Shut up!" Ravager roared.

"Shut him up!" screamed Rose.

"Robin and Terra. Hmn. Kinda like he hand-picked the son and daughter he always wanted. I guess he wasn't crazy about the kids he had. And now that he's dead—"

"He's not dead!" Rose shrieked.

"—you two are left squabbling over who he would have loved more, when the truth is, I don't think he liked either one of you. Am I right?" Cyborg said.

Rose yowled and swung her gun from Jinx's head. The pistol barked three shots that sparked against Cyborg's chest, making him duck involuntarily. His sudden flinch made Gizmo clutch his triggers, launching green energy from his cannons that blasted the dirt at Cyborg's feet.

Jinx grabbed Rose's shooting arm. A breath of water magic froze the gun in the blonde's hand, biting Rose with frost. Rose screamed as Jinx slammed her hand back against the side of the mobile home, shattering the frozen gun and breaking Rose's frosted fingers. A handful of crackling hex shoved Rose to the ground, where she gasped in agony.

"Shoot me now, bitch!" Jinx said through her teeth, and gathered a killing stroke of chaos magic above her head.

Blinded by dirt, Cyborg staggered backward. Then he toppled under Ravager's boots, which landed atop his chest. Saber edges bit either side of Cyborg's neck. He looked up at Ravager, who knelt on Cyborg's chest, poised to decapitate the Titan.

"Who's the favored son now, Cyborg?" he said with a mad gleam in his eyes. "I have his name, I bear his colors, and now I have his army."

As Cyborg tensed against the swords held to his throat, he felt his communicator stir with the response he had been waiting for. The last piece of his plan fell into place as his mind aligned with two separate processors.

"Two out of three ain't bad," Cyborg told him with a strained smile.

Before Ravager could react, the desert air split open into a swirling black portal the size of a garage door. Ravager recognized the power as Raven's, and raised one of his sabers in preparation of the impending arrival of the other Titans.

He could not have been more wrong. From the portal poured an endless stream of Slade's drones. The robots spread into the area with precise coordination, surrounding the Winnebago and the assembled villains in a matter of seconds. Their eyes glowed with the promise of death. Their claws were poised to sunder anyone foolish enough to break their line.

Seconds after the last robots emerged, the portal rippled with the arrival of the other Titans. They charged onto the scene and spread out, covering the rest of the shocked Tyrants as Ravager climbed off of Cyborg.

Swords held aloft, Ravager backed away from the rising Cyborg. He bumped into one of the innumerable robots that were keeping his Tyrants separated and guarded. "What the hell is this?" he demanded.

Cyborg tapped his head. "This," he said, "is what a good wireless connection can do. It took me a while, though. Your little sis is one hell of a programmer. For a second there, I didn't think I was gonna get through her firewall."

The sight of her stolen army being turned back on her drove Rose to furious tears. Her throbbing hand did little to help. "You boosted my signal? But you were going to destroy the transmitter!" she cried.

"Didn't Gizmo already tell you? I was bluffing. I needed a little time to make it happen," Cyborg said. Grinning at Ravager, he added, "The standoff would've given me enough time if Ravvy wasn't such a romantic at heart. Good thing you're both really touchy about your daddy issues, too."

Gizmo's cannons whined with mounting destructive potential. He swung their barrels at the robots surrounding him, and said, "Here's a thought. Who fraggin' cares? Let's just blast these scrap heads and kill everybody! Tyrants Terrorize, am I right?"

"Not a bad idea," Cyborg said, "except that you're a much better engineer than you are a programmer, squirt."

Outside the ring of robots, the SLICER rumbled to life. It rolled forward, its massive tires forcing the robot curtain to part or be crushed. The cannon atop the tank swung down to aim directly at Gizmo as the tank rolled to a stop right in front of him.

Gizmo fumed. "Get your scraggin' code out of my tank!" he screamed.

Brushing his hands clean, Beast Boy leaned against one of the statuesque robots, and propped his bare foot up against its leg. "Yep, looks like this one's all wrapped up. Plus, now we've got our own robot army! Sure, it'll need a new coat of paint, but—"

All around them, the robots stiffened and dropped their arms. Their eyes began to flash in a pulse that grew steadily faster. An ominous glow emanated from each of their chest plates, accompanied by a harmonious tone whose pitch climbed painfully.

Beast Boy jumped off the robot and clapped his ears. "I didn't do anything!" he cried on reflex.

Cyborg searched with his eyes and with his wireless signal. Both led him to Rose, who leaned against the Winnebago with a heavily modded cell phone in her good hand. She glared back at Cyborg, and said, "Just because you have one signal doesn't mean you have exclusive control. I just gave them their termination order. That's a one-way countdown, spam can."

Enraged, Jinx hexed the robots separating her from Rose into dust. Fire pooled in her hands as she leapt at the blonde. "You little—!"

Rose sidestepped the fiery attack. A lash of her boot sent Jinx to the ground in a heap. She tossed the phone at Cyborg as the other Titans and Tyrants converged on her, and ran, calling, "Enjoy your next fifteen seconds of not being a crater!"

She hurdled the ground that Shimmer transmuted into molten rock, and slid on the gritty ground out of four Billys' grasps to grab the handlebars of a dirt bike that lay stowed underneath the back of the mobile home. In one smooth motion, she dragged the bike upright and straddled its seat. Her foot shoved Bushido aside when he tried to tackle her off her bike, which started and streaked away in a cloud of dust.

Cyborg grabbed Bushido by the scruff of his keikogi. His link with the blinking robots gave him access to their countdown. Rose hadn't been bluffing in the slightest, and he knew firsthand how devastating these drones' self-destruct systems could be. "Raven! Far away! Now!" he shouted. She was a step ahead of him, already pushing the air aside to form another portal.

Mere steps away, Ravager helped Jinx to her feet as the rest of his Tyrants gathered close. It was galling to Cyborg that, with just another few seconds, he might have time to grab Ravager and end the Tyrants' threat once and for all. The glare Ravager gave him seemed to echo Cyborg's thought in reverse. "Jinx, wind! We need altitude!"

As Cyborg dragged Bushido through Raven's portal, he heard Gizmo whine, "But my SLICER!" The next instant, he was stepping out onto a lawn made of gravel that crunched underfoot. A suburban model home stood before him in an empty neighborhood. And an entire row of men in red cloaks lifted their state-of-the-art assault rifles at him, making him stop so hard he skidded a few feet more.

"Hold your fire!" Brother Blood called, waving off his troops. They did as they were told, and bowed in reverence as Blood left Mother Méhymn and his priests to greet the other Titans emerging from the closing portal. To the confused Cyborg, he said, "Welcome back, friends. Were you successful?"

His answer came from the blinding flash that consumed the horizon. Dirt and metal mushroomed into the red sky. The deafening blast came an instant later, first underfoot, then through the air, rattling the Titans, the Church, and the houses surrounding them. As the column of debris rose in the distance, the sky faded back to blue, and the roar waned into a background rumble.

Cyborg looked back at the mushroom cloud alongside the rest of the Titans. He felt sharp dissatisfaction at their lack of capture, but it was tempered with a sense of closure. The last of Slade's insane bid for power was gone. It had cost Cyborg a home, a jet, and two friendships, but it was finally done. He was glad to be rid of the robots at last.

Uncovering his ears, Beast Boy said, "I guess it's too much to hope that one or two of our sworn nemesises got caught in the robocalypse back there, huh?"

"One can always hope," Bushido chimed pleasantly.

The quip made Cyborg realize he was still holding Bushido by his gi. He let the assassin drop, and noted with disgust, "We would've had Rose if you hadn't let her get away. That doofus with the math symbol on his chest came closer to nabbing her than you did."

"Who was that girl, anyway?" Tek asked tinnily, changing the subject with a note of annoyance in her voice.

Cyborg stared into the mushroom cloud. Remembering Rose's and Ravager's bickering, he wondered with a pang if Slade's presence in the city was truly gone after all. "Knowing our luck? Somebody who'll be back with another headache for us too soon," he said.

* * *

Raven pursed her lips and ran the applicator over them, masking them with a twilight color that matched her eyes perfectly. It had taken her weeks to find the color. She was glad to know that all of that repugnant shopping hadn't been in vain.

Examining her lips in her meditation mirror, she said, "That's when we got your signal. I found your coordinates, formed a portal that could carry the drones, and…well, you know the rest. That was clever, taking control of their signal instead of just blowing everything up like you usually do."

Cyborg leaned against the countertop across from her, watching in fascination. Seeing Raven in makeup felt wrong, but also exhilarating, like seeing Bigfoot ordering a fast food combo meal. He kept expecting her strapless dress to be revealed as an illusion that would melt away if he concentrated hard enough, but the dark blue fabric remained wrapped around her in spite of his stare.

"Why are you doing this in here?" he asked, and gestured around the Commons. The recreational room seemed poorly equipped for getting ready for a night on the town.

She looked up from the mirror, and then glanced out the long window to the urban night outside their grounds. "You wanted to 'debrief' me. I need to get ready. Multitasking."

"We could have done it in your room, if it would make all that primping easier," he said.

Glaringly, Raven retorted, "You're not going in my room. Not again." She waggled the mirror at him with an arched eyebrow.

He grinned. "Can't blame me for trying. So, the Church of Blood really just showed up to help out? Weird, but actually cool. I guess maybe they aren't so creepy after all."

Raven's face darkened in the mirror. For just a second, she thought she saw another set of eyes lurking in her dark eye shadow. She set the mirror aside, no longer able to look at herself. A shiver ran through her weary soul, which yearned for Dominic's peaceful embrace.

"They're revolting," she said. "Are we done here?"

"Yeah. I've had enough for one day." He stood with her, and stretched. Dozens of kinks and pops warned him that it would be a long auto-maintenance cycle tonight, but that could wait for a few hours at least. "I could use about a metric ton of pizza right now. Gar and me are gonna go grab a slice at Hot Za. If you and your spooky hunk aren't too tired from smooching, you're welcome to meet up with us later."

They walked up the stairwell leading to the Habitation Wing. Raven didn't bother to rise to his bait. "I think we'll be just fine on our own, but I'll pass the message along," she said, climbing the stairs ahead of him. When she reached the top, she stopped, surprised, and added, "Besides, it looks like you have your own date."

Cyborg trotted after her to make sense of the curious statement. He stepped into the Habitation Wing hallway, and his jaw dropped. "Legs?" he asked, befuddled. Then he shook his head and tried again. "I mean, Tek?"

Tek waited outside of Cyborg's door, tapping the toe of her platform sandal impatiently. Her smooth legs tapered endlessly from a short pleated skirt that complimented the yellow halter top draped from her neck to just above her midriff. When she saw the pair, she stomped toward them, her legs moving in wonderfully distracting ways that stunned Cyborg.

A cross look creased Tek's brows. "Hey, Raven," she said shortly, her voice steady and stern in a way that neither of the other Titans had heard. "You look great. Heading out? Say hi to Dominic for me." Her stormy eyes rose to Cyborg, and she said, "You. Stay."

Raven shrugged at Cyborg's confused look. She sidled around Tek cautiously, mirror in hand, and said, "Don't wait up."

Cyborg watched her go, envious of her escape from this new insanity. "Okay, I give. What's with the getup, Tek?" he asked, already sorry for doing so.

She jabbed a finger at his chest, and said, "Stop treating Bushido like crap."

Of all the mistakes to make at that moment, Cyborg picked the worst: he laughed. "What? I haven't done anything to Captain Death-Kill-Maim-Murder, so what's—?"

Her strappy platform sandal clacked furiously on the floor as she stomped, and said, "That right there! You all keep calling him names! You blame him for everything! You act like he's garbage that you're just hauling around until you can dump it somewhere. So knock it off!"

Cyborg sighed. He massaged the bridge of his nose, and said slowly, "Tek, I know you don't understand, but Bushido tried to murder us. He's only here so we can keep an eye on him. Friends close, enemies closer. That sort of thing."

Her voice dropped twenty degrees as her eyebrow arched. "Oh, I see," she said, folding her arms. "Whenever you meet somebody dangerous, you just make them a Titan so you can babysit them. Is that it?"

"Sorta," he said. Then his eye bugged in realization. He waved his hands, and said, "I mean, no! Not you, I mean. You were different. He—"

"I'm not different. You made me a Titan. You made him a Titan. So we're either both Titans, or we're both just freaks you're keeping on a leash. Which is it, Cyborg? Am I Titan?"

He wilted under her scathing look and icy tone. "Of course you are, but—"

"Then so is Bushido. So start treating him like it." She saw Beast Boy emerging from the stairwell, carrying a sandwich and a curious look for all the commotion he heard from downstairs. Jabbing her finger at him, she shouted, "Gar! Start treating Bushido like a Titan!"

The sight of Tek so oddly dressed and yelling at him startled the sandwich out of Beast Boy's hand. He yelped, and asked, "What? What did I do?"

"Skip it!" she snapped, as Cyborg stared and Beast Boy mourned for his fallen sandwich. "Now, we're all going out for pizza. All four of us. And we're going to have a great time, because we're teammates, we're all friends, and I look pretty, damn it!"

"But…"

"Now!" Tek marched to Bushido's room, wobbling on her unfamiliar shoes. She pounded on his door for a solid minute before he answered, dressed in a simple black robe and carrying a book tucked under his arm. Before he could ask, she said, "Get dressed, because we're going out for pizza."

Bushido blinked. "But I do not like pizza," he said.

Her face flushed red. "We're going for pizza!" she said. Looking back, she fixed Beast Boy and Cyborg in her terrible glare. "You two, go wait down in the lobby. Ry will be down in a minute, and then we can go. MOVE!"

The pair scampered down the steps to escape her shrill wrath. Once they were out of sight, Tek sagged against the wall next to Bushido's door and gulped air as though she were drowning. Her whole face and bare shoulders were flushed red. Her hand shook as she smoothed down her hair.

Bushido leaned out of his door in confusion. "Are you to wait for me here, then?" he asked cautiously.

She clutched her stomach and tried to make the hallway stop spinning around her. "In a minute," she said breathlessly. "First I have to go throw up."

* * *

Ops was dark in Tyrants Tower. The lights were off, the monitor, just a window. Moonlight shimmered off the ocean, filling the room with soft, pale shafts of blue light that ebbed and flowed like the tides themselves.

The doors parted, spilling fluorescence into Ops. Jinx stood in the doorway, and called softly, "Grant? Grant, are you in here?"

No answer arose. She stared across Ops, entranced by the sight of the Pacific caught in night's embrace. As her eyes adjusted to the moody light, she saw a cap of trim, dark hair peeking over the edge of the couch. It hadn't moved at her call.

She frowned, and walked through the closing doors. Her footsteps echoed in the silence as she circled the room to the couch set before the empty window monitor. There, she found Ravager still in his armor. He slouched into the cushions, his hands folded across his belt. His helmet sat propped on the table by his legs. Its hollow eyes stared at him.

She lowered herself onto the couch and slouched alongside him. For a few moments, she just gazed upon the ocean, watching the light ripple on its dark skin. "Those twerps know how to pick a view, huh?" she asked.

"My father would be ashamed of me," he said flatly, unable to meet her surprised glance.

Jinx stroked the hair from his forehead. It stuck with sweat and still smelled of battle. "Oh, Baby Face, no," she murmured.

He didn't twitch at her touch. "Some amateur poseur swooped in and made a grander gesture in one day than I've been able to do in months. By herself. And she has enough faith in him to believe that he's still alive. Why can't I?"

"Because you're not insane…ish," Jinx said, stroking his hair. "Plus, she didn't even come close to winning."

"I just keep thinking: what if my father is still alive? What if I should have been looking for him all this time, instead of swearing vengeance in his name?" He tapped his helmet with his boot, and asked bitterly, "Do I even deserve to wear this?"

"Um, duh?" Jinx laid her head on his shoulder, spilling her unbound hair across his chest. "You're the baddest dude I know. What do you think I stick around for? Your winning charm? Not hardly. It takes a lot to impress me," she told him.

His glove creaked as he opened and closed his fist. "I had her. I could have killed Rose and taken everything…I could even have killed Cyborg. And all I had to do was…" He glanced down at Jinx, trailing off. Closing his eyes, he said, "Slade would call me weak for making that kind of choice."

Jinx slid her hand into his, and closed her eyes when she felt him squeeze back. "I wouldn't," she said.

They stayed on the couch, listening to the distant crash of the surf, and fell asleep one after the other, hands still intertwined.

* * *

"And so he asked me if I could now row the boat with both my arms broken," Bushido said, and pushed aside his half-eaten slice of tofu cheese pizza. "To which I replied, 'absolutely, but canoe?'"

Soda sprayed from Beast Boy's nose, misting the table and their pizza in a fine coat of high fructose corn syrup. He clutched his face and pounded the table, choking, "Canoe! Ha! That's hilarious!"

Chuckling, Bushido finished, "And that was my last trip to Wisconsin."

Tek and Cyborg joined in the laughter, filling the Compound's outdoor patio with ringing joy that it sorely needed. Their takeout pizza had been finished or left for leftovers. Only a single light over the patio door kept the late hour from swallowing them in shadow.

Still in her self-terrifying outfit, Tek leaned back and enjoyed the sight of Cyborg laughing with Bushido. She had known that Beast Boy wouldn't be hard to sway. The shapeshifter didn't have a begrudging bone in his body. But the tenuous peace between her other two friends had been something she wanted very much. As uncertain as she felt, she also felt good for making it happen, even if it only lasted the night. That was enough of a baby step for now.

She checked her watch when her yawn nearly unhinged her jaw. "Holy smokes, it's late. I should hit the sack. But this was fun. We should do this again."

"Maybe next time you'll actually make it outside instead of just ordering delivery from the lobby," Cyborg teased her.

Bushido glanced under the table, and said, "She would first need shoes in which she can walk."

Tek sneered playfully at them both as she gathered up the pizza boxes. They sat in a small tower on her hand as she wobbled to her feet, and said, "Ha, ha. Gar, could you give me a hand so I don't break my neck here? I'd ask these dorks, but they're too busy trying to be mean to a cute girl."

Beast Boy grabbed the sliding door for her, and stuffed one last slice into his mouth. "Canoe," he chortled around a mouthful as he followed Tek inside.

The door closed, leaving Bushido and Cyborg in the privacy of the patio. Still chuckling, Cyborg asked Bushido, "That guy in your story? You killed him, right?"

"Oh, absolutely," Bushido said. "But I didn't think anyone would find that part funny, so I omitted it. I think the story works much better without it, don't you?"

Their mirth sobered into hard looks at one another. Cyborg's fingers drummed on the wire tabletop, their rhythm slowing as he thought. They stopped altogether when Cyborg spoke. "You know I hate your guts, right? That I'm just waiting for you to spring whatever game it is you're playing?"

Bushido nodded. "It is only fair. I did try to kill you. To be honest, I'm still disappointed that I did not. It feels like I was cheated."

Through the glass door, Cyborg watched Tek stagger through the kitchen on her sandals. He sighed. "But I haven't exactly been fair to you since you got here. Not that a tough guy like you can't take it, but…well, it isn't right. And I'm sorry."

Without a trace of irony, Bushido said, "It is all right. I am remarkably tough."

"Look, like it or not, you're a part of this team. You need to know that, no matter how I feel about you, I've got your back. Always. Just like I need to know that you've got mine. You get me?" Cyborg said.

"I do." Bushido nodded, deathly serious. "And you must know that, regardless of my past, so long as I tell you that I am with you, you can rest assured that I am with you, and will offer you nothing less than my best effort. My honor will allow nothing less."

He followed Cyborg's gaze with his own, and found Tek's smile too infectious to resist. "She is a remarkable girl, I must say. Regardless of what I say or do, she is determined to be my friend. It is refreshingly uncanny."

Cyborg nodded. "She's something special," he agreed.

The two young men, once bitter enemies, formerly bitter teammates, shared in an amicable silence as they watched Tek lose her footing and fall completely out of her towering shoes, upending herself over the counter with an explosion of empty pizza boxes.

"Not too graceful," added Cyborg.

Bushido shook his head. "Indeed not."

Rising from his chair, Cyborg activated the hologram display above his arm. He made his habitual check of the security systems in preparation to turn in for the night. With mild surprise, he double-checked the lobby entrance logs, and said, "Huh. Raven still hasn't made it back. Guess she wasn't kidding about waiting up. I hope she had fun tonight."

* * *

Slowly, luxuriously, Raven awoke to the soft, soothing tones of an unfamiliar ceiling and the downy touch of satin sheets. A pleasant ache rippled in her abs as she stirred, stretching more muscles that were curiously sore. She felt supremely relaxed, despite the thin sheen of sweat over her skin. A soft, steady, adorable snore emanated from the pillow next to hers. It began lulling her back to sleep almost immediately.

Then everything struck her at once: the unfamiliar bed, the sweat, the aches, the snore, and the alarming realization that she could feel the satiny sheets from her chin down to her toes. She sat bolt upright and flung open her eyes.

A strange, enormous bedroom greeted her, furnished with opulent antiques. She was lying in an honest-to-God four-poster bed with gauzy curtains. Portraits of gothic strangers lurked on the walls. Somewhere, a grandfather clock counted the seconds of the late hour.

She looked down, blushed at the abundance of ashen skin she found, and yanked the sheets up to her chin. Dominic lied beside her, his arms tucked under his pillow, his bare back stretched above the sheets. He wore the same sheen that she did, and snored in obliviousness to her thundering heartbeat.

Raven curled her knees to her bare chest and hugged her legs, and clasped her eyes shut. "Azar, no…" she croaked.

**To Be Continued**

* * *

Oho, loyal readers! As another story arc draws to a close, we're left with more questions and more developments! Will we ever see Rose Wilson again? Is Slade really alive, as she claims? Has Tek conquered her inner demons? And, oh, I suppose there's this business with Raven, too…

Well, tune in next week for some completely different questions to be answered, as we move halfway across the country to a little city called Metropolis. Next week: Higher Calling, a delightful tale of old friends and new heroes. See you then, when (don't I always say it?) the best is yet to come!


	19. Higher Calling

_Disclaimer_

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

_Higher Calling_

The school bell rang, giving rise to hundreds of teenagers who abandoned their desks with the anticipation of a weekend unfulfilled. Seats squeaked and halls clamored with the student body of Metropolis Midtown High School in exodus. The students pulled almost enough books from their lockers to fill their homework needs before congealing into their favored cliques as they poured out into the late spring afternoon.

Between the chattering groups, there existed a clique of one. He walked between the other teens, not among them. The difference was blatant to those around him, who stared after him with murmured questions as he descended the steps of the school. They gave him a wide berth wherever he went, through the narrowest hallways to the wide city sidewalk.

Rumors wafted after him. If they were to be believed, he was an arsonist, a juvenile delinquent, a kidnapper who had held his previous principal hostage, and a reformed killer on antipsychotics who would murder them all if he ever forgot to take his pill. He rather liked the last one, and consequently took his vitamins at lunch, sometimes waiting until just before the bell.

His name was Jason Todd, and he hadn't made a single friend in his three weeks at Midtown. He hadn't said more than ten consecutive words to anyone, not even to answer a question in class. He looked normal to the point of being contrived, with close-cropped dark hair and baggy clothes that made everything below his neck generic.

But one look into his blue eyes made anyone see the icy, impregnable wall he carried around him. It froze out anyone bold or kind enough to speak to him. He was never impolite, or short, or even dismissive. His voice hadn't changed its monotonous pitch since his arrival. But when he did speak, it was as if he did so from across a great expanse.

Jason endured the other students' whispers without a second thought. He could hear them all, thanks to his trained ear, and knew full well what they thought of him. He didn't care. In time, they would accept him or ignore him. Either way, it didn't matter.

Shouldering his backpack, he began the long walk home through the city. The backpack was mostly for show. He had gotten his homework done in first period. All of it. For every class. The rest of the day, he had taken notes with his left hand while his right hand had devised tactical strategies for repelling an invasion from Apokolips using any combination of three Justice League members. The Blue Beetle-Vigilante-Crimson Avenger combination was giving him some trouble.

Now he let his mind wander from the drudgery of schoolwork. His gaze rose into the skyline and its fantastic skyscrapers. Even after a month, he still liked to look at Metropolis's buildings. They were modern architectural feats unlike any other in the world. Certainly nothing like he had grown up with in Gotham City. Or anything like Jump City.

Thoughts of the West Coast city dulled his dull mood. He quashed them at once, and quickened his pace, regulating his eyes to the sidewalk. Forget Jump City. Forget fitting in. Forget about everything else. Just concentrate on the here and now.

As he left the dense grove of towers for the squatter, seedier Suicide Slum, the foot traffic thinned to a mere trickle. Most people were smart enough to steer clear of the Slum unless they had "business" or were too poor to live elsewhere. Jason was neither, yet resided in the Slum anyway. It afforded him a sense of privacy that few other places in Metropolis could offer.

At the moment, though, privacy eluded him in the form of a stunningly beautiful young woman who clicked behind him in Gucci heels and an off-the-rack skirt suit that she didn't quite fill out. She sped up to walk alongside Jason, tugging uncomfortably at the spaghetti-strap purse dangling from her shoulder.

"Excuse me, young man," she said, sweeping her dark hair back over her ear. Her brilliant smile outshone anything else in the Slum. It was as though she had been dropped onto the street from an entirely different scene. "Do you think you could direct me to the Daily Star? I'm running a bit behind, and—"

Jason saw her at once for what she was. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked faster. "You're eight miles off. You wanna turn back, quick," he said over his shoulder.

She somehow paced him in her tall heels. "Oh, goodness, is this the Slums? I'm not from around here. I came from Omaha for a job interview. With the Star. I'm going to be a reporter," she told him proudly.

It became clear that he would not escape what was to come. Sighing, he slowed down, and said, "That's nice. So you'd better turn around and start walking in the other direction."

Flustered, she continued to follow him, and said, "Oh, dear. I'm afraid all these big city buildings have me topsy-turvy turned around. What's the best way I can—"

Without warning, a burly man rushed past the businesswoman from behind. He wore a heavy jacket and a ski mask pulled over his face, and he broke the purse right off her shoulder with a vicious yank. "Thanks, lady!" he called back as he ran. He rounded the corner and disappeared into an alley. His cackle rang loudly from the narrow gap.

"Help! Thief!" the woman screamed, staggering back. She hugged her arms and sobbed, "Someone stop him, please! He's getting away!"

When she looked to Jason, her hysterics gave way to astonishment. Jason had leaned against the side of a dilapidated building with his hands laced behind his head. He stared up into the sky, pondering the shapes of clouds without any regard for her lost purse.

Her stomp clacked on the sidewalk. "Well? Are you just going to stand there? I just got mugged! Why don't you do something?" she demanded.

He sighed the sigh of the put-upon. "Why don't 'you' do something?" he countered in a bored voice. "Or better yet, just wait until Kon-El brings your purse back. He won't wait for me in that dead-end alley forever. He's not that patient."

The woman's mouth flapped wordlessly. She gaped at the teen, trying to form some kind of response. Then she shut her mouth into a tight line and narrowed her sapphire ire upon him. "Okay," she huffed, folding her arms. "What gave me away? I thought that was pretty good."

"Maybe if that was a fourth-grade production of 'The Sting.' Even then, I'd probably cast you as 'the tree.'" Jason leaned forward and grasped her wiry bangs. The woman didn't move as he tugged the dark hair off her head, revealing a long curtain of golden blonde locks that rolled down to the small of her back. "Plus, your wig is cheap synthetic. Next time try horse hair if you're on a budget."

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe I was just a cancer survivor with a wig. Wouldn't you feel bad then?"

Her eyes flashed as he pushed one of her sleeves up her arms, revealing long, silvery metal wrapped around her wrist. "A cancer victim with Amazonian bracers? Not likely."

The disgust on her face sharpened as he leaned back against the wall. Scowling, she turned to the alley down the street and snapped, "Conner, will you get out here already?"

Her purse snatcher stuck his head out of the alley, looking back with confusion. As he walked out, he peeled the mask back to reveal the handsome, earnest features of Superboy. "Aw, he spotted it? Weak. I was hoping he'd at least follow me around the corner before he figured it out."

"Then maybe you shouldn't mug people in the middle of May wearing a ski mask and a heavy coat. Also, muggers don't laugh like mad scientists," Jason said. To the woman, he asked, "Cassie, right? I've heard of you."

"My friends call me Cassie," the woman said archly, and stepped out of her high heels. She began working the buttons of her suit coat, and said, "You can call me Wonder Girl."

Superboy likewise undid his disguise. A black and red Superman shield lurked inside the gap of his coat. "Don't get pissy just 'cause he made us, Cass. That's what Tim does," he quipped.

Jason glanced around warily as the pair of heroic teens undressed on the street. He saw no prying eyes about, but that didn't mean there were none. "I'm afraid you're confused, meathead. My name is Jason. Jason Todd. You'd better be off looking for you pal—Tim?—at his house. In one hour. Try to be subtle."

Wonder Girl rolled her eyes again. "Oh, good. Secret identity shadow games." Glancing at Superboy, she added, "This is supposed to convince me?"

Superboy waggled his brows. "You know you miss it. C'mon, let's leave 'Jason…'" When he turned back, "Jason Todd" was gone. A sweep of the street with vision powers revealed no trace of him. "…alone," Superboy finished lamely, and closed his jacket.

Turning, Wonder Girl searched with her own powers of observation, which were less super, but keener. "Okay, that was a little cool," she admitted begrudgingly. "But are you sure about this guy?"

"Twelve hundred percent," Superboy said with a nod. He gestured to the alley, and added, "C'mon, let's go get undressed. I mean, into costume."

Smirking, she followed him toward the alleyway. "I know what you meant. Just keep that super vision to yourself," she said wryly.

"If I had supervision, this wouldn't be nearly as fun," he joked, and received a palm to the back of the head for his punny behavior. "Ow," the invulnerable teen said.

* * *

Little more than an hour later, Superboy and Wonder Girl descended onto the rooftop of a squat, squalid brown building that appeared to be just one notice away from being condemned. Most of the roof was empty space that had been swept meticulously clean, making this rooftop stand out from any other in Suicide Slum. That might have been the building's only redeeming virtue.

Landing at the building's edge, Wonder Girl cringed at the roof's only feature, a wiry structure made from rusting pipe whose walls were composed of cracking, yellowed glass. Many of the glass panes had been replaced with boards. If she had to guess, she would have thought the structure to have once been a small greenhouse. After decades of neglect, it was just an eyesore.

"People actually live here?" she asked Superboy, who landed behind her.

Before he could answer, a voice within the greenhouse said, "No. 'A person' lives here." A shadowy presence moved across the glass, emerging from the mouth of the structure as the teenage boy she had sought to trick on the street. He wore jeans and nothing else, leaving bare the sculpted muscle of his chest and arms. A thick circle of scarring marred his back and chest in mirrored spots, almost as if something had been driven through him.

"So," Superboy drawled, scratching his head as the teen padded across the roof on bare feet. "Can I call you 'Tim' now, or are you still 'Jason?'"

"He's not possessed, Conner," Wonder Girl said impatiently. "He's just theatrical."

"Tim will do fine, Kon-El." The teen stopped in the middle of the rooftop. As he spread his arms, he scrutinized the pair.

Wonder Girl wore all the trappings of a modern-day Amazon champion. Her armor had been molded into a red, sleeveless chest plate with the double crest sculpted in gold, leaving her midriff exposed. Leather armor hugged her hips and legs, and tapered into red boots. Spangles hung from her ears. Her bracers glistened with the colors of the waning day.

Superboy had changed his uniform since last Tim had seen him. In fact, Tim could hardly bring himself to call Superboy's clothes a "uniform." He wore jeans and sneakers, and a tight black T-shirt with the shield ironed on its chest.

Superboy caught sight of Tim's scrutiny and grinned. "You like the new costume?" he asked. "I wanted something a little simpler. More casual."

"It looks like you rolled out of bed at two in the afternoon and decided to fight crime," Tim said. He leaned to one side, and then rolled hard into a cartwheel that began his gymnastic workout. Flips, springs, and rolls carried Tim across the rooftop with preternatural fluidity. As he leapt through his routine, he asked, "So how did you find me?"

"What are you talking about? I'm the Teen of Tomorrow." Superboy slid off the edge of the building and sat on the rooftop with his back propped against the ledge. Wonder Girl followed suit, crossing her legs. "I flew into orbit and then listened until I found your heartbeat here in Metropolis. The whole thing took one minute, tops," explained Superboy.

Tim continued his workout. His skepticism flashed between flips. "So how did you find me?" he asked again.

Sheepishly, Superboy said, "I asked Batman. He didn't want to give it up at first, but I finally convinced him to tell me where you were." At Wonder Girl's sharp elbow, he added, "By having Clark convince him to tell me where you were."

That Batman could track him was no surprise. Tim had expected that, and had also expected Batman not to bother with him. But he had hoped to stay off Superman's radar for a while longer, if not indefinitely. "Superman knows I'm here," he said in mid-routine.

Shrugging, Superboy said, "Yeah. I guess he's just keeping a lookout for you, in case you decide to cape it up in Metropolis."

"Tell him not to worry." Tim landed on one hand and spread his body into a three-point star above the ground. His arms and legs hardly trembled under the strain. "That's not going to happen. Jason Todd is just here to finish high school."

Superboy shared a look with Wonder Girl. She appeared decidedly unconvinced, but nodded anyway. To Tim, Superboy said, "Well, actually, that's why we're here. We wanted to talk to you about something we're putting together."

"What happened to waiting for the League? Did they stick you on rotation with the Question?" asked Tim, upside-down.

Frustration kinked Superboy's forehead. "Haven't you been keeping up with what's going on, Tim? Superman and Captain Marvel tore apart four square city blocks over a stupid disagreement over Lex Luthor. Cadmus is making more clones. You know what that means," he said darkly.

"Not to mention what's going on in California with your old pals," Wonder Girl added.

Tim flipped to hide his expression. Hand springs carried him to the opposite side of the roof. "They're fine," he said.

Superboy stood up. "They're not fine, Tim. Nothing is anymore. That's why Cassie and I want to start something of our own."

A triple flip flung Tim to the very edge of the roof. He landed on the balls of his feet with his heels hanging over the side. Light sweat glistened on his chest, which rose and fell with quickened breath. "And you want me to join?" he asked.

"No." Taking a deep breath, Superboy said, "I want you to lead. Put it together from the ground up, like you did before."

Tim rolled forward onto his hands, and then down from the ledge. He glanced past Superboy to Wonder Girl, who still sat against the opposite ledge. "What about you?" he asked.

Rising slowly, Wonder Girl joined Superboy at the center of the roof. "Honestly? I think this is ridiculous. Conner and I are more than capable of doing this on our own. He insisted that we track you down and hand our idea over to you. And so far, all I've seen is a gymnastic enthusiast with identity issues whose home smells like bird crap."

Her stern glare, combined with the long-suffering look Superboy gave her, made Tim laugh. "Well put. There's your answer, Kon. Thanks for dropping by," he said, and padded over to his greenhouse.

"Let's talk about this, Tim," Superboy said, floating after Tim in spite of Wonder Girl's look. "Burgers and fries at the Ace o' Clubs. If we all wear our gear, Bibbo might give us free drinks again. He loves the capes."

Tim pulled down a shirt hanging from the greenhouse door. "I'm retired, Kon. I wear cotton blends now," he said, and thrust himself through the shirt.

Superboy crossed his arms. "Bull. People like us never retire, Tim. We just step back to get our bearings, and then we get right back into the thick of things."

"No," Tim said. His face popped from his shirt with a pointed look. "People like 'you' never retire. You have too much power not to. People like me, however, go on to live normal lives. That's what's happening here. That's who Jason Todd is. He's normal."

"That's it? You don't have powers anymore, so you're just going to quit?" Superboy scoffed. "If that's so important to you, we can just find a vat of toxic waste to push you in. But the Robin I remember regularly trounced guys with super powers without ever needing his own to do it."

Tim stared at Superboy for a long, chilly moment. Neither spoke, Neither blinked. Then he turned and walked into his greenhouse, and slammed its door in Superboy's face. "What do you want from me, Kon-El? I don't do that anymore. I don't want to do that anymore. I put that life behind me."

Superboy grabbed the door, ready to rip it off its hinges to follow. Wonder Girl stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Don't. This isn't working, Conner. Let's go."

He lowered his hand in frustration. Speaking through the glass, he said, "We're staying at Clark's apartment. He's on some kind of deep space mission for the League, so it's just us. When you change your mind, you can find us there until tomorrow."

Bitter silence met his offer. Wonder Girl patted his shoulder again, and then leapt into the air.

Superboy was slow to follow her. Disappointment weighed him down on the roof a moment longer. He turned back and saw a shadow watching him through the yellowed greenhouse glass. It galled him to know that he couldn't help his oldest friend in spite of all the power he wielded. Perhaps because of that power.

A rare, devious thought crossed Superboy's mind. He called to Tim, "There's someone you should meet. Somebody new to the business. She likes to work the south side after midnight. Clark's been keeping an eye on her to make sure she doesn't hurt herself. He asked us to do the same while we were here. I think you'd like her, so I'm gonna let you do it tonight."

When no answer came, he lost the last of his smile. Only a sliver of his hope remained as he flew from the roof. "South side. Midnight. You can't miss her. But if you do, she might get into trouble she can't handle. That'd be a shame…"

The shadow in the greenhouse watched Superboy fly away. It gazed at the city into which the heroic pair vanished, a city that gleamed from afar like no other he had ever known. Its heroes likewise gleamed, rising like beacons into the sky. The shadow wanted nothing of that kind of heroism anymore. Curiosity or not, he had no interest in returning to that world.

Still, if Superboy expected him to play guardian angel for a fledgling hero, and he didn't, she could be hurt because of it, or worse.

"Damn it," he grumbled, and dug through his meager possessions for something to wear.

* * *

Twenty minutes past midnight, Tim hunched on a rooftop across the street from one of the sloppiest robberies he had ever seen. He watched in silence, suffering under the heat of his hooded sweatshirt. His only comfort came from knowing that the idiots moving through the broken storefront window of the electronics store were suffering as he did in their heavy caps and bulky clothes.

This was their second job of the night, at least since Tim had been following them. He guessed they had noticed Superman's absence in the last few days, and were making the most of it. The five-man crew carried boxed plasma screen televisions out in stacks to their idling truck, the back of which was already laden with swag. Soft chatter murmured between them, jokes and trade speak, most of which Tim was too far away to hear. They worked quickly and jovially, and loaded several thousand dollars' worth of merchandise inside of five minutes. Yet they kept going back for more.

Tim made no move to stop them. Despite living there for a month, Metropolis wasn't his city. He didn't feel the same attachment to it as he would have to Gotham. And more importantly, he knew these idiots would be caught soon enough anyway. Smash-and-grab style robbery had gone the way of dinosaurs and NutraSweet. The police would catch up with them, assuming Superman didn't get back and do so first.

The sight of another figure on the opposite rooftops interrupted his self-justification. Tim froze, crouching behind his roof's ledge, and watched the new figure move over buildings across the street. Like the thieves, this figure moved with amateur abandon, leaping and flipping toward the electronics store. As the figure passed the low moon, Tim saw a feminine shape trailing a long, scalloped cape, and knew he had found his rookie.

The rookie rolled onto the store roof as all five thieves exited with a new set of swag. Two of them wrestled with an awkward cart while the other three moved more boxes. They all stopped when the rookie leapt to the edge of the store's roof and spread her cape wide. It was a miracle they hadn't seen her sooner.

Caught in the streetlight, the caped figure's silhouette became a shapely, athletic girl wrapped in a form-fitting red and gold blaze. Her cape formed a pair of showy wings that flapped with her outstretched arms. Flowing blonde locks framed her smile and bounced around a yellow visor that masked her eyes.

"You boys are out awfully late for a shopping spree," she announced, and planted her hands on her hips. "Not that I don't appreciate a good sale myself."

Tim cringed at her statuesque pose while the thieves dropped their boxes. _Jump and quip, Don't quip and pose_, he groaned inwardly.

Only once the thieves had dropped their swag in favor of crowbars and knives did the young hero move. She dropped from the rooftop, landing in a crouch in front of them, her cape fluttering behind her. Standing, she brandished her gloved fists, and said, "Smart shoppers or not, you guys don't have what it takes to tango with the fabulous Flamebird! But I can see we're gonna fight anyway, so let's do this."

Two thieves came at her at once with crowbars. Their attack showed more forethought than their robbery, as they circled wide to flank the Flamebird. Tim could think of at least six different ways to counter such basic strategy.

Flamebird thought of a seventh. She leapt at one man, driving her knuckles through his teeth to put him down with one punch. It was a good hit, and dropped the man into an unconscious heap, but it also left Flamebird wide open to the man behind her. She caught his crowbar in the ribs as she turned to deal with him. The blow made Tim wince from across the street, and made Flamebird drop to one knee with a yelp.

"Bad luck, Tweety Bird," the thug said. His cohorts chortled as he raised his crowbar to split Flamebird's skull.

Even as Tim gripped the roof's edge to leap into intervention, he saw Flamebird grasp her glove. A cloud of pepper spray burst from her fist and engulfed the thug's face. He screamed and clawed at his streaming eyes before Flamebird's boot kissed him goodnight.

She rose slowly, clutching her side as the thug staggered to the ground. Her visored glare turned upon the remaining three. Her hand urged them forward with a waggle. "This could've gone easy," she said. "Now you're in for a fabulous ass-kicking. Last chance."

The three thieves shared a look. Then they charged her with a unified snarl, two crowbars, and a switchblade. Like the first two, they spread out to outmaneuver her solo act.

Flamebird had taken her hard lesson to heart. She strafed to one side, forcing the thieves to follow and line up. Her cape swirled around a spinning kick that belted one thug clean out of the fight. She landed in a deep crouch, and then sprang backward into a flip that flung her boot beneath the chin of the second thug.

By the time the third thief had circled around his insensate friends, Flamebird had drawn a clunky, frilled boomerang from her belt. "Taste birdarang! And also justice!" she cried, and flung her weapon.

The red boomerang missed his head by four feet. He watched it fly past, and then advanced upon Flamebird with a sneer, his switchblade flicking before him.

Flamebird stood her ground with a confident smirk. Then her confidence died when the boomerang came back, missing the other side of the thug's head by another four feet before thunking harmlessly against the store's door.

"Eheheh…" Flamebird chuckled nervously, scratching her head. "Wind must've caught it."

The thug's knife flashed at her. His clumsy stab tore through the middle of her cape as she swept to one side. With an angry shout, she sidled her hip to his and grabbed his arm, and judo-slung him into the wall. He bounced onto his knees, where he tried dizzily to rise. Her punt drove the idea out of his head, right alongside his consciousness.

Flamebird sighed and brushed her hands clean. From her belt she produced a handful of zip-cuffs, and bent to truss up the thugs. Her face twisted with pain, which she hid behind a gritted grin. "One bird call to the police, and you turkeys will just be another couple of caged canaries." Then she stopped and groaned, making a face. "Ugh. I'm sorry. That was just bad. You didn't deserve that."

As she zip-cuffed her punting victim, the first thug she had knocked out pulled his face from the blood pooling under his chin. He rose silently behind her, drawing a pistol from his waistband. Flamebird didn't notice him until the hammer of his gun clicked back. Her head whirled around, putting her horrified face squarely in his aim.

She froze at gunpoint, making the thug chuckle through the blood streaming from his broken teeth. "Stupid capes," he sneered.

A pair of worn sneakers slammed into his shoulders from above, throwing his shot wild. Flamebird yelped at the sparking ricochet that clapped on the streetlight next to her. Her rescuer landed on the thug's back, driving his face back into the bloodied street.

Flamebird caught only half a glimpse of the man that had saved her. His head and body were obscured by an unseasonable black sweatshirt. Blue judgment flashed inside his shadowed hood, stealing her breath, before the stranger flipped backward off the unconscious thief.

"Hey, wait!" Flamebird cried, and started to follow. Her ribs objected to the chase by bursting into flame beneath her suit. She gasped and clutched her side. The sound of sirens made her pause and reflect on the mess outside of the electronics store. None of the thieves would be moving soon, and it would behoove her to be not there when the police arrived—which would be momentarily, if the distant flash of red and blue was any indicator.

When she turned back, the stranger had disappeared without a trace. She couldn't follow him, even if her ribs would allow it. They already gave her hell for drawing the hooked line from her belt to twirl over her head.

"I gotta get a Flamemobile," she grunted, and flung her line at the rooftops. It hooked on her second try, allowing her to shimmy away into the night.

* * *

Half an hour later, Flamebird swung onto the rooftop of a ritzy penthouse suite, stumbling off the end of her line. A few deft tugs dislodged its hook, letting her pull the rope back into a coil, which she placed back on her belt. Each move she made she paid for with a twist of her face and a growing need for aspirin.

She crept across the high-rise yard, circling wide to avoid the heated pool's motion-sensitive lights. The apartment windows were darkened, as she had expected. Likely, her parents had long since succumbed to their nightly cocktail of highballs and sleeping pills. Flamebird could have marched an elephant through the pool without drawing their attention, but she didn't want to risk anyone else seeing her in costume.

Her skulking brought her to the pool house. Fumbling, she keyed the small building's door, and pushed inside with a sigh. Then she opened the door a second time to pull her cape all the way in after her. With a surreptitious glance out the window, she flicked the lights and moved inside.

The spacious pool house was furnished with a tasteful combination of leather and soft colors. A plasma TV larger than those the thieves had sought to steal en masse hung on the wall. Plush chairs and couches sat gathered around the lavish entertainment center, none of it appearing to ever have been used. A full, fully stocked soda bar waited for her at the back of the room.

Flamebird unclasped the cape from her collar and draped it over the bar. She pulled the visor off her face and tossed it aside. Then she unzipped her bodysuit and peeled its opening aside to reveal a black sports bra and black-and-blue ribs. She opened the mini-fridge under the bar and retrieved a cold pack, which she slipped into her suit and pressed against her ribs with a hiss.

Her hiss gave way to a contented moan. "Another stunning victory for the fabulous Flamebird," she groaned, and leaned heavily against the bar.

"That's what you call stunning?"

The voice startled Flamebird off the bar. She jerked her zipper up, closing her suit with the cold pack inside, and whirled around with a birdarang already drawn. Her throw sent the birdarang high and to the right of the hooded figure standing before her closed door. He reached up and caught it before it smashed through the window.

Shaking the sting out of his hand, the stranger said, "Take it easy, Miss Kane"

She gasped and fumbled for her visor, which she jammed upside-down onto her face. "Who are you? How do you know my name?" she snapped.

He lifted his hands. "I'm not looking for a fight," he said. Slowly, he reached up and pulled the hood from his head. Dark hair clung to his forehead with sweat. His face approximated a smile, as though he wasn't quite sure how to do so, but wanted to put her at ease. When she saw his eyes, she realized that this was her mystery rescuer.

"I guess you think you're pretty slick, following me back to my secret headquarters," she said bitterly, and yanked off her visor. "You got me. The fabulous Flamebird is really Betty Kane, teen socialite heiress and Metropolis's tabloid princess. Aren't you just the clever detective?"

His smile grew a touch more genuine. "I didn't know all that. I just read the last name monogrammed on the towels hanging outside. You could have said you were just staying here, or were one of the cleaning staff's kids. Lies are a big part of the trade."

Flamebird deflated. "Oh. …can I say that now?"

"I think I remember seeing your picture at a supermarket checkout," he mused. "You didn't really marry Bigfoot, did you?"

She blew an impatient breath and ducked down behind the bar. A soft _zzzip_ and a rustling removed the extraneous lump from her costume's ribs. She stood again, her uniform whole and her expression arch. "I suppose you want a thank you, Mister…?"

He hesitated. Then he said, "Call me Tim." Frowning quizzically, he added, "How old are you?"

Now she hesitated. This young man, whom she was fairly certain wasn't a paparazzi, had been talented enough to save her, elude her, and track her. And he was strikingly handsome. "Eighteen," she squeaked indignantly.

"Minus three?" he surmised, making her blush. "And no, I didn't come here looking for gratitude. I came to…" He trailed off uncertainly, frowning. "I guess I just came to talk. Check on you after that nasty hit you took from the crowbar. Is that okay? I can leave if you want me to."

Flamebird eyed him cautiously, fingering her equipment belt. The tension in her body lessened as she said, "No…no. You did kind of save my life. I guess if you wanted to mess me up, you wouldn't be here for a face-to-face. But I don't do interviews, savvy? Flamebird is trés privé, monsieur."

Tim approached the bar with a cautious gait, more for her comfort than his. He set her birdarang on the bar, and said, "I'll keep that in mind. Though the tights are trés aventureux, oui?"

Another blush matched her face to her curvy tights. "You never answered my other question, Timmy-boy. Why are you here? Or are you some kind of super hero stalker? Because that won't fly, let me tell you. I get enough of that in my other life. Where I don't get to use violence to solve the problem, as opposed to here. Hint."

"Not a stalker," he said, sitting at the bar. "Even though your stalker would say pretty much the same thing. But I'm actually here because a…friend asked me to keep an eye on you."

She rolled her eyes. Two diet sodas made their way up from the mini-fridge, one of which she slid to Tim. The other she opened and half-drained in one swig. "Great. Superman by proxy. I appreciate that he wants to look out for me, but I don't need him always going all life coach on me. And I definitely don't need him sending a stand-in to do it for him." She glanced over the top of her can, embarrassed, and added, "No offense."

"None taken," he assured her.

She drained the rest of her can as she watched him tentatively sip his. A curious expression followed the crumpling of her can. "Wait," she said. "Why are you following me for Superman? Who are you to follow me for Superman? I thought his crowd all wore the shield, not black hoodies."

"I'm…" Tim wasn't sure how to answer that. He batted his can back and forth on the bar top in thought. "I'm…I was in the business," he decided. "Got out of it a while ago. Like I said, this is just for a friend. I doubt you'll see me again."

"That's too bad," Flamebird said, unaware that she was staring. At Tim's glance, she fought the blush burning up her neck, and quickly changed the subject. "Um, listen, Tim? I'm basically basting in this suit, so…could you turn around or something?" She reached for the split mirror behind the bar, which she began to open to reveal a hidden cabinet.

Tim took his soda and moved to the couch, keeping his gaze well away from the bar. "Sure."

She pulled her clothes from the cabinet and laid them over the bar. Her zipper growled slowly as she inched it down her uniform. "No peeking," she said, only partly meaning it. But Tim kept his gentlemanly eyes averted as she squirmed out of her tights. A pair of running shorts and a V-neck replaced the skintight golds and reds. "Okay," she said, gathering her uniform onto a hanger. "You can look."

He glanced back over the couch. Then he gaped.

The cabinet behind the mirror housed a hook upon which she hung her uniform. It had a pile of equipment sitting in the bottom. The rest of the cabinet was filled with newspaper clippings, magazine covers, pictures, sketches, and pin-ups, all drawn from a common theme that struck a chord in Tim to drown out Flamebird's voice. He blinked at her moving lips, and asked, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said, 'Do you like my collection?'" Flamebird swept her hair back and smiled dreamily at her staggering collection of images in her secret cabinet. Dozens of masked eyes stared back at her, making her swoon. "Isn't he the coolest? I would give anything to meet Robin."

The stalker shoe was on the other foot now, and it gave Tim an awful shiver. He saw pieces of cape tacked to the back of the cabinet. A whole birdarang hung from pegs, this one far more advanced than hers. Tim knew, because he had designed it. What looked to be a lock of black hair was taped to the inside of the cabinet doors, which she brushed with her fingers, making Tim cringe and check his scalp.

He made a mental note to bring kryptonite to his next meeting with Superboy.

She plopped down on the couch with a new soda, propping her legs on a lacquered coffee table that likely cost more money than the sum total of Tim's possessions. "Sorry. I can be kind of a Robin freak, I know. But he's just…hot! You know?" she asked.

"Not…really…" Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, "So, uh, Flamebird…"

"You're sitting in my living room, pal," she said wryly. "You might as well call me Betty. Come to think of it, you might be the first person I've had up here, ever. And a cute boy to boot. Go me." She sipped her second soda through a smirk at his obvious discomfort.

"Sure. Betty." His mouth hefted her name like it was a barbell, heavily, uncertainly.

Betty smiled. "There. Now we're friends. So," she said coyly, tracing the rim of her can with her fingertip, "You're retired, huh? Who did you used to be?"

"Excuse me?" he said too quickly.

"You can't tell me you hang out with the 'S' crowd with a handle like 'Tim,'" she scoffed. "Somebody that can move and sneak like you do? I see you in a dark sort of color scheme. Blacks, grays, a shadowy cloak. You've got this broody forehead that just screams for a mask," she said, and framed his face with her hands.

Tim withdrew into an embarrassed silence. "It doesn't really matter anymore," he mumbled.

Betty dropped her hands. "Sorry," she said, chagrined. "Sometimes I can be really…" She waggled her hands, bugged her eyes, and stuck out her tongue. "Y'know? I guess it's why I don't get much company. Any company."

"The tabloids tell a different story," he said charitably. "Clubbing all night, sailing on yachts, living the lifestyle of the rich and famous. At least, that's what I skimmed."

"All a lie," she said airily. "Wealthy dilettante Betty Kane is just a mask I wear by day to hide my true, mysterious, altruistic alter ego." As she flourished her soda can, she noticed a laugh being held in check behind Tim's tight lips. "What? What's so funny?"

"Inside joke," he said, and sipped his soda until his smile dissipated. His gaze drifted back toward her open cabinet. Ignoring the scads of creepy Robin adoration, he examined her fiery costume. It had no armor, no Kevlar, and only a rudimentary utility belt. Its cape couldn't stop bullets. It was bright enough to attract all kinds of attention, and simple enough to kill her for it. "Can I ask you something, Betty?"

"Only if I get to ask you something, Tim," she said. "But guests first."

"Why do it?" He gestured to the empty Flamebird hanging in her cabinet. "Why throw yourself into this business without any real help? No offense, but you don't seem like the type. And you're awfully…green," he said.

Betty's gaze joined his at the cabinet. Hers, however, did not linger on the costume. "I think the word you're looking for is 'lousy.' And yeah, I guess I am." She sounded as though she had expected the question since learning his name. Shifting in her seat, she thought, not about what to say, but about whether she could bring herself to be honest, both with herself and with a stranger. Finally, she asked, "You know that lie I told you I'm living? Swimming pools and movie stars?"

"Like I said, I just skim them in the checkout line," Tim said.

Her mouth dipped. "Well, it didn't used to be a lie. I used to be a real Metropolis pop princess, a child of privilege. And I've never had to work at anything in my life. Ever. I don't mean, like, 'work for money' work, though I never have. I mean, like, whatever I try, I'm just good at. You name it, I've tried it, and I can do it well."

"And you're modest, too," Tim deadpanned.

Betty shrugged. "Call it arrogance if you want. When I was thirteen, I was correcting my professor's calculus work on the board. At fourteen, I got my black belt in karate after practically sleepwalking through every lesson. By fifteen, the US Olympic Gymnastics team started calling and sending gift baskets. I've never had to really work at anything."

Tim shrugged. "Okay. So what happened?"

Turning backwards on the couch, Betty draped herself onto the armrest and sighed wistfully at her pictures and pictures of Robin. "He happened," she murmured, and veiled her eyes in daydream.

A career's worth of memories whirled in Tim's mind, searching the faces and masks he had met. "You…and Robin?" he asked, confused.

"I wish. I'd give my left arm just to meet him," Betty said. She sank back onto the couch with cat-like bonelessness and gazed up at the ceiling, her mind far from her body in the throes of imagination.

"I remember the first time I saw it. I had just gotten home from a fashion show, or a charity event, or some bullshit, and I turned on the TV while I was whitening my teeth before I hit the clubs. And there was this bizarro alien attack on the West Coast. And I remember thinking, what's the big deal? Metropolis gets invaded, like, eight times a year, and you don't hear us bitching about it.

"But then I saw him," she said, her voice growing husky. "No one had ever gotten good footage of him in Gotham City, so I'd never really saw him before. But some schmuck with a camera caught Robin fighting this freaky orange alien girl. He was…wow. Just wow. And he moved like…wow! I watched him fight, and I just knew I had to meet him."

Tim's face became the embodiment of incredulity. "You live in a city with Superman, and the one hero you wanted to meet more than anyone else was Robin? I know I'm saying this to someone who dresses in tights and flings herself off of buildings, but you're crazy."

"Any invincible idiot can throw a blanket around his shoulders and fight crime," Betty said to Tim's staunch, silent disagreement. "But someone like me? My age? Who could do what I did, only better? It was love at first web search. I found out everything I could about him. I read every article, every eyewitness blog, clipped every picture. I even planned a trip to Jump City just to sneak onto his island so he'd catch me, and I could meet him.

"Then I started thinking. Who was I to hunt Robin down? Even if I found him, he's a big-time hero, and I was just some spoiled brat. For once, I was a nobody to someone else. And let me tell you, that's a really freakin' weird feeling for a girl who has separate closets for her shoes and socks," Betty said.

"That's when it hit me. I could jump I could swing. I could fight. Who else would Robin like better than a super hero just like him? He'd flip over a hot babe who could battle injustice at his side, right?" she asked with a grin.

Tim swallowed hard, feeling much like a proverbial Frankenstein faced with his demon. The thought of holding so much sway over someone he had never met felt like a heady super power all its own, and one more dangerous than any he could ever imagine. "You became a hero to meet Robin?" he asked weakly.

She nodded. "Totally. I put together the suit and cape, made my own birdarangs, the works. The hardest part was the name. Something hot that played on the 'Robin' vibe. But inside of a month, I had everything together. I started stepping up my gymnastics and my karate until I felt ready, and then I hit the town. I figured once I saved enough lives, I'd get my name in the paper, and bam! Rookie hero runs off to Cali to join her destined bird of a feather to fight together. Maybe even more," she said, her look sinking slyly.

Nausea sloshed in Tim's stomach. He set his soda aside and grasped his forehead, overwhelmed by the sheer wrongness of Betty's story. She was a little girl playing dress-up. She was a child with a crush on a shadow. Why on Earth had Superman let her continue? She was going to get herself killed, and probably kill several other people in the process. "Betty…" he said, wondering how to confess the truth without crushing her utterly.

Betty went on as if she hadn't heard him. "And then I had my first night out. I found a mugging. Caped Crusader One-Oh-One stuff, right? Some bozo had dragged an old lady into an alley. Seriously, she looked like she was almost forty, and she was wearing this awful pantsuit that made her butt look huge. This bruiser, he was trying to keep her quiet. It looked like he was trying to get her jacket off, maybe turn this into something worse. Yeargh.

"So I swung down, cape blazing behind me. Announced my name, posed, worked the goods." She mimed the pose, thrusting out her chest and chin. "Guy pulls a knife on me. I get scared. So I beat the tar out of him. I mean, I really let this guy have it. Probably needed spelunkers to pull his boys out of his crotch afterwards. 'Nuff said. I totally saved that old lady, and…"

She drew her long legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees, staring at the wall. "And there was no cheering crowd. No News Nine. No fanfare, no medals, no keys to the city, no spaceship from the Justice League to offer me a spot in their starting lineup, no plaque, no reward, no paparazzi, no pictures, no attention, no anything, no nothing! The lady was so scared that she ran without even saying thank you.

She smiled. "And it felt great!"

"…it did?" Tim asked, looking up.

"For the first time in my entire life, I did something that mattered to someone besides me. I saved a life. I can save lives." Her hands flexed in absent thought. "Just knowing that is a thousand times cooler than…anything. Even meeting Robin! Well, maybe not that much cooler," she amended with a smirk.

The Frankensteinien dread in Tim's stomach lessened as he looked upon Betty in a new light. He tried to remember how he had felt clinging to the top of that bus in a stolen cape and mask all those years ago, speeding to avenge the death of a father he'd barely known. Hadn't his reasons for getting into this business been just as wrong as hers? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Yeah. I suck at this right now," Betty said firmly. "But I'm getting better. And I can help. Even if it's just one person. If I can help, I have to. Otherwise I'm just wasting space again. That's what I told Superman when he tracked me down, and now that's what I'm telling you."

Tim glanced back over the couch at her heroic altar. "What about Wonder Boy?" he asked.

Betty smiled to herself. "I don't plan on tracking him down, if that's what you mean. Nobody's seen him in months anyway. I hope he's okay. But if I ever did meet him, I'd definitely tell him what he did for me, and how he turned my life around." Her smile widened as she added, "And then I'd try to grab his butt. Rawr!"

Her playful growl became a yawn. Tim glanced at the clock and remembered too how hard it was to schedule a night life like hers in the beginning. He stood, pocketing his empty can to hasten his exit. "It's late. You should get some sleep. I know how much a double life takes out of you, especially with a couple of cracked ribs."

Covering her mouth, she said, "A boy running out on vixen wild child Betty Kane. I must be losing my touch."

He managed a small smile. "Thanks for the drink, Flamebird. Keep fighting the good fight."

As he walked to the door, Betty stifled her second yawn to say, "I never got to ask my question." When he stopped, and turned to face her, she asked, "Why did you quit?"

Tim stared for a moment, lost for an answer he could put to words. Four faces floated behind his eyes, right where they had remained since that moment in S.T.A.R. Labs, when he had realized what he had to do. Another of those moments struck him now.

"All the right reasons, I guess," he said at last.

The yawn defeated Betty, exploding from her mouth in victory. She screwed her eyes shut and gingerly stretched the kinks out of her back. "Well, I hope you drop by again, Tim. Maybe next time you'll actually tell me something about yourself."

She opened her eyes. Tim was gone. Her door was still secure, and hadn't made a sound.

"Huh. Cute boy. Slightly creepy," she said to the empty room. She collected her can and recycled it behind the bar, and stopped in front of her uniform. Her favorite poster of Robin hung on the cabinet door, staring back at her wistful smile. Glancing to either side, she gave the photo a quick kiss. "One of these days," she promised, and closed the cabinet.

* * *

Wonder Girl crept across the apartment's carpeted living room, navigating by the city light pouring through the enormous bay windows overlooking Metropolis. Under normal circumstances, she could have stood there, in her pajama sweats and T-shirt, and stared at the city all night. That night, she had something else on her mind, and crossed the windows without a second look.

"Conner," she hissed to the lump of blankets on the couch. "Conner, wake up."

The lump mumbled as it rolled off the couch. Superboy thrashed out of the blankets on the floor, still wearing his rumpled jeans and T-shirt. His eyes opened one after the other, and took a few seconds to find her. "Cass? What's up? Trouble?"

She sat down on the couch as he pulled himself back onto the cushions. A pensive expression tugged her features toward her lap. Her hair sat in a tangled mess around her neck. "No, nothing like that," she said, wrapping herself in her arms. "I just couldn't sleep."

A sleepy grin split Superboy's face. "Clark's big ol' bed got you feeling lonely? Want some company?"

"You wish," she snarked.

"Night and day, babe." A throw pillow struck his face.

Wonder Girl picked up the other pillow and hugged it to her lap. "I just…I've been thinking a lot about what happened this afternoon. That Tim guy, he's…different than how you said he was. I almost felt like he was picking me apart with his eyes, like a dissection. I don't like it," she said, and shivered.

Superboy sobered immediately. "Tim went through some really hard times last year. I'll admit, it doesn't look like he got through it without some major baggage. But I was there for some of it. It was bad, Cass. He still needs time to work through it. Help, too. That's why I think bringing him on board will be good for everyone."

"But as leader?" Wonder Girl asked. "I know what he's done, Conner. And I know he's your friend, and it's sweet that you want to help him. But from the way you talk, you act like we can't do this ourselves. Like we need him."

"Well, we do," he said matter-of-factly.

She sighed impatiently. "I don't think we do. For gods' sakes, he doesn't even have a power anymore. You and I are powerful enough to do this on our own. And we're smart enough, so don't even start," she told his impending interruption, closing his mouth. "I know it seems like a huge deal, and it is. But we can do this. You and me."

Superboy frowned. "Cass, it isn't that at all. It…" He struggled for an explanation as she waited patiently. "Okay, it's like this. Let's say there's a guy with a gun, and he shoots at us. What would you do?"

"You're kidding, right?" She asked, and searched his face for signs of the joke. He remained unusually serious. Tapping her bracers together, she said, "I'd block the shot. You could probably just stand there, maybe even eat the bullets if you wanted to. What's your point?"

"What if there're civilians nearby, and they catch the ricochet?" Superboy said. "What if the gunman uses explosive rounds? Or kryptonite bullets? What if it's a mind control ray?"

She scowled. "Well, you didn't say any of that."

"Exactly," he said, "because I didn't think of it. My first thought would have been to take the shot too. Because I can. But someone like Tim can't."

"Which is exactly why he shouldn't—"

"Which is exactly why we need him," Superboy insisted. "One bullet can put Tim down for good. So he has to eliminate the gun before it can fire. He has to outthink the guy with the gun before the guy pulls the trigger, or draws the gun, or even thinks of drawing the gun. Tim has to think three steps ahead just to survive. He has to think like that every hour of every day to keep himself and everyone else alive. And he does."

Slowly, begrudgingly, Wonder Girl began to understand. "And you want to apply that kind of thinking to us."

He shrugged. "He's done it before. Honestly, it's what I've always admired about Tim. He runs around with nothing but a cape, a stick, and a rope and fights the same guys we fight. It's like he turned thinking into a super power, only it's not as lame as it sounds. If there's anyone I trust to pull my cloned bacon out of the fire, it's him. Next to you, natch."

Wonder Girl smiled and leaned in toward him. Her lips pursed ever so slightly, brightening his drowsy eyes. "Why, Conner Kent, you semi-smooth talker. Check out your big brain, going all reasony on me."

"Don't feel bad. I'm logicked like a horse," he said, tilting to meet her halfway.

Both teens jolted apart at the utterance of a third voice from the kitchen. "You're making me blush, Kon-El."

Superboy's vision cut the darkness and saw Tim standing in the kitchen doorway. A backpack bulged behind Tim's shoulders. The hooded intruder might as well have teleported in, for all the good Superboy's senses did him. Glancing at the disturbed and de-mooded Wonder Girl, Superboy snapped, "Damn it, Tim. Really? Now? Not, like, two minutes from now? Or, I don't know, twenty?"

"Might as well be 'never' now, farm boy," Wonder Girl muttered. She kept her glare leveled on Tim, who strode into the living room. His features were veiled in the shadow of his hood. Crossing her arms, she said, "You look like a lazy burglar."

"The costume will get better. I packed light," Tim said in a rusty Gotham Growl. He stopped on the other side of the coffee table. "This thing you're putting together? I'm in. Let's get started."

"What about retirement?" Superboy asked smugly as he stood.

Tim matched Superboy's smile with a stony glower, one he intended to mask in white and black once more. The glimmer in his eyes burned away the last vestiges of Jason Todd. Jason was a nice place to hide. But Tim didn't deserve to hide. He didn't deserve that life. And even if he did, he could never live it for real.

"People like us don't retire," he said. "It's time to make a difference again."

**To Be Continued**

* * *

What I'm about to say will sound like pure fabrication. The few of you who recognized her before Googling her just now will never believe me. But let me say it anyway: I have been waiting years to use Flamebird in this story.

The concept of Flamebird was too cool to pass up. During my research into this story (yes, I researched Titan lore, which raises me to some new, untold level of dork, I know), I came across Betty Kane, the once Batwoman and fourth-string Titan wannabe. For those of you who don't know, I've kept her origin story here relatively the same: she was a talented young athlete who loved, loved, LOVED Robin, and so became a super hero to meet him. She tried out for the Titans and failed.

And I knew from moment one that I (being the manliest Robin fangirl around) had to bring in Flamebird. So I have. And I'm enormously amused by the result. It wouldn't be duplicitous of me to predict that we'll see more of her someday.

But in the meantime, let's return to our plucky heroes in yon Compound of T, eh? I believe we left young Raven in a bit of a pickle. Well, lucky for her, she gets a whole story arc to work it out. Stay tuned for _A Love Story_, beginning next week. Hope to see you there!


	20. A Love Story, Part I

_Disclaimer_

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

* * *

Raven sat curled beneath the gauzy curtains of a four-poster bed, naked beneath red satin sheets, lying next to a slumbering boy whom she hardly knew in a room she didn't recognize in the slightest.

She had a plethora of questions to ask herself, chief among them regarding how and why she had come here. But those questions were drowned out by a deafening scream that rang inside her mind. She clutched her hair and stared down into her lap, and waited for her screaming mind to run out of breath.

Panic overwhelmed her practiced serenity. She felt her father's influence grasp that panic and twist it into outrage. She had been tricked. She had been kidnapped. She had been seduced. She had been violated!

Her forehead burned with the budding of two red eyes above her wide twilight stare. Quickly, she crushed all of her eyes shut and grasped her temples. Breath whistled through her teeth in a ghostly whisper of her mantra: Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos. She mouthed the words over and over, keeping the demonic eyes closed, until the words overcame her mind's scream. Her heart rate slowed. Her breath steadied. The red eyes vanished.

She kept her other eyes closed for several minutes more, reinforcing her calmness lest her panic be turned against her again. Only when she was sure that she wouldn't erupt did she plumb her memory for its missing pieces.

Dominic had taken her to a quiet pub for dinner. The restaurant was small, dark, and secluded, leaving the two of them to talk about nothing and everything well into the evening. When he had noticed the time, he had offered to take Raven home, something to which she reluctantly agreed.

They had held hands on the walk back to the Compound without exchanging a single word. The entire way, Raven had been immersed in the incredible sense of peace his touch brought her. There had been no pedestrians, no traffic, to interrupt them. Even her friends' voices coming from the patio garden couldn't break the spell between her and Dominic.

When they had reached the front door, there had been shuffling of feet. Awkward smiles. Trailing sentences. Raven had felt him pull away to say goodnight, and suddenly she had known, _known_, she couldn't let him leave. Not again. Not ever.

So when Dominic had taken his hand from hers, Raven had wrapped him in a bone-crushing embrace. When he had opened his mouth to speak, to question, Raven had flown from her tiptoes to silence him with a kiss.

She remembered the electric jolt of his lips. Her whole body had ached with a totally new sensation. Standing there, aloft in his arms, she had awakened something inside of her that grew with rampant abandon. For the first time in her life, Raven's humanity had overwhelmed her demonic nature, swallowing it whole and filling her with raw human need.

And when she could bear that need no more, she had reached into his thoughts for a safe place he knew. She had opened a portal, and had dragged him through into this room. And then…

Well. And then.

Raven drew a deep, shuddery breath and looked upon Dominic as he slept. Her look became a stare. She watched him snore softly. The smooth sculpt of his back rose and fell in a way that made the sated humanity in her hungry once more.

She looked away and thought desperately on what she should do next. Mediation. She needed to mediate. That much was made painfully clear by the tenuous thread on which her inner calm hung. As smoothly as she could, she lifted the sheets aside and slid from the curtained bed to begin the hunt for her clothes.

Her high heels lay at the door like a pair of toppled sentries. She snatched them up on her way to her dress, which lay a disturbing distance across the room, flung carelessly over the arm of an antique chair. As she draped the dress over her arm, she scoured the floor with a pinball gaze, growing more frustrated and anxious by the second.

"They're under the bed," Dominic said, making Raven yelp and drop her collected clothes. He sat up in bed, the sheets draped over his lap, his eyes drowsily piercing the curtain between them. An unreadable expression formed in his face as he asked, "Sneaking out?"

Raven felt her features darken with embarrassment. Her heart raced. She yanked the dress from the floor and pressed it over her body. "I wasn't…sneaking," she said, unable to meet his gaze.

"It's a little late for modesty, don't you think?" he asked with a trace of impishness. "Your underwear. It got kicked under the bed, I think. I'm still a little groggy."

Raven's face burned. She looked further away, and pressed her dress tighter to her front when he rose from the bed to stand outside the curtain. Like her, Dominic had lost his underwear. He didn't seem as perturbed about it as she. "I have to go. I'm sorry," she mumbled.

His impishness evaporated. "Sorry about what? Are you okay?" he asked.

When he took a step forward, Raven backed away sharply. Her back struck a dresser on the far side of the room, rattling its contents. She tried to veil herself completely behind her dress as she said, "I just…I have to go. I have to."

Dominic stopped. He raised his hands, and spoke in a soothing tone. "Okay. Okay. This is… You're obviously really upset right now. Would…" He paused, frowning to himself.

Raven felt her panic return in the silence. Part of her longed to fly to Dominic, to press herself to him and drink in his peace. She could no longer trust that part of herself. Her panic became rage in the distant hands of her father, who sought to consume her with the maddening emotion. She tugged at the air, parting it into a small portal. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"Wait!" Dominic cried. His voice echoed the panic inside of Raven, surprising her. Her portal waned as he reached out, and said, more calmly, "Would you…would you like a drink of water? Are you thirsty?"

He pointed to a sweating carafe on a silver platter, which sat atop the dresser behind her. Crystal glasses clinked next to the carafe as Raven bumped the dresser again. "No," she said.

"I…I'm thirsty. Let me just get a drink of water. Then we can talk," Dominic said.

Impatience tinged Raven's panic. She did not want to wait. She did not want to talk. She just wanted to teleport to her room, lock the door, and isolate herself until this whole mess made sense to her, or until time stopped, whichever came first.

She had just drawn breath to tell Dominic exactly that. Then she held her breath in curiosity as Dominic reached out, focusing intently on the carafe behind her.

The air next to Raven stirred. Then, slowly, ether began to manifest from the space between, culling into wisps of pure red. The ethereal matter drew together into a four-clawed hand that hovered over Raven's shoulder. Beneath her astonished stare, the red claw picked up the carafe and poured water into a glass, and then lifted the glass into the air.

Raven said nothing while the disembodied claw carried its glass to Dominic. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think, save for one horrifying realization as he accepted the glass.

Dominic waved his free hand. The ethereal claw dissipated back from whence it came. After taking a sip, he smiled uncertainly, and said, "Tada?"

The glass flew from his grasp and shattered on the floor as Raven slammed into him. Her dress forgotten, she grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall, unseating several of the portraits hung behind him. Both of their toes dangled above the floor as she lofted him with ease, crushing his throat.

Her face twisted. "You're a demon!" she snarled.

* * *

**Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

_A Love Story, Part I_

"Hlax-dnaxxghhhhhh…" gargled Dominic.

Raven shook with rage and tightened her grip, which he pulled upon to no avail with both his hands. "You tricked me! You lied to me!" she cried.

"Rvghhnn…" His eyes bulged, and his face turned blue.

"Why do it? Why do all this just to get to me?" she demanded. "Is this all some kind of sick game? Am I just a game to you?"

Red ether seeped beneath her hand. It expanded around his throat, affording him a desperate breath that inflated his chest. He gasped, and wheezed, "I'm half-demon!"

Hearing his choked voice broke Raven's baleful concentration. She saw her hand around his shielded throat and jerked back at the realization of what she was doing to him.

Dominic slid to the floor, sitting with his back to the wall. He coughed and wheezed while Raven fought for control of herself above him. "Ack," he coughed, doubled over. "I'm a half-demon. Like you…"

Raven clutched the hand that had choked him. She still felt her demonic eyes threatening to split her forehead. Her nakedness lay entirely forgotten. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you keep it a secret?" she said, tensed and ready for retaliation.

Rubbing his throat, Dominic rasped, "I was afraid you would flip out and do…pretty much what you just did. I wanted to wait for the right time to tell you, after we got to know each other a little better."

"And you picked now?"

Her incredulous tone might have made him smile if he wasn't in so much pain. "Yes. That was some choice stupidity on my part, I admit. I just…" He looked up through watering eyes, and said hoarsely, "I wasn't sure if I would ever see you again if you ran through that portal. I got scared that I would never see you again, and I wanted you to know. It seemed like one of those 'now or never' moments."

Prickling self-consciously, Raven draped her arms across her breasts and turned away. "Why bother?" she snapped, blushing blue all over. "Why go to all that worry if I'm just another notch in your bedpost? Which, by the way, most straight guys wouldn't be caught dead in," she added acerbically, and eyed the poster bed.

She felt outrage well up in him. It was the first emotion she could ever recall sensing in him, and it gave her a start. Looking back, she saw him scowl as he snapped, "In the last two minutes, you've tried to run out on me, accused me of date-raping you, called me a monster, attacked me, attacked my masculinity, and now you're calling me a man-slut. At what point is it my turn to get angry, Raven? This wasn't even my idea!"

Shame tempered her temper. Her glare cooled on its way to the floor. Modesty did seem ridiculous to her at this point, so she let her arms drop to her sides. "You're right. I…I'm sorry. Nothing makes sense to me right now," she said.

She knelt down and put a hand to his throat. Dominic flinched, and then relaxed when a soft black glow emanated from her touch. Her throat burned with the pain she accepted from him to heal him. The pain lasted only a few seconds, and then both of them felt fine, if confused and embarrassed.

"Thanks," he said, testing his voice gingerly.

She backed away as he rose, averting her eyes with sudden abashment. They stood uncomfortably close, unable to speak, unwilling to look. The moments of passion that had run roughshod over their inhibitions mere hours before felt like a lifetime ago.

"Okay," Dominic said. "We're both clearly freaked out. Why don't we get dressed and grab a snack in the kitchen? I think there's some chocolate cake in the fridge."

Raven shook her head. "You're thinking about food now?" she asked in disbelief.

Chagrined, Dominic countered, "There is no way that sugar can do anything but improve this disaster of a moment."

His confectionary logic narrowly won her over. She owed him a few moments' talk at least after attacking him, and her curiosity at his revealed nature overpowered her skittish instincts.

She stretched her soul-self from her hands. Black tendrils crossed the room to consume her dress and scour the floor beneath the bed until they found and devoured a black thong. Bringing them back, Raven wrapped the soul-self around her body. It faded a second later, revealing the dress back in place over her. She tugged it higher, still self-conscious, and said, "I'll wait outside."

Dominic had stopped in mid-collection of his clothes to stare at her magical dressing. "Wow. That's neat. You'll have to show…" As she stalked quickly for his door, he called, "Promise me you won't leave. Please?"

She hesitated with her hand on the knob. "I…promise," she said.

The door closed with a soft _click_ behind her. Raven leaned back against the door, closing her eyes. The solitude of the hallway comforted her little, yet she welcomed it anyway. She drew the solitude in with a shaky breath, trying to force it into her tumultuous soul without success.

When she opened her eyes, she drew another breath, this one for surprise. The hallway outside made Dominic' gothic, antiquely-furnished room appear cheery and impoverished by comparison. All of the numerous doors in the hallway, including the one on which Raven leaned, were handcrafted from polished oak and decorated with ornate carvings. Oil paintings hung between the doors, each in custom frames, each likely worth more money than Raven could fathom.

She wandered down the hall, her bare feet kissed by luxurious, immaculate rugs draped over waxed hardwood floors. Each of the doorways was separated in the hall by a high archway carved with the likenesses of lamenting angels. The long hallway instilled a sense of privilege in Raven that gave even her sensibilities pause.

The hallway opened into a balcony overlooking what she assumed to be the entrance to Dominic's home. It was a grand hall, replete with tapestries and paintings that boggled her sense of scale. A sprawling staircase and banisters tapered from the balcony to the floor, which could have doubled as a sports stadium of the players' choice. Stained glass above the doors depicted a three-story mosaic of an angel reaching out for a fiery red sky. The dead of night made the mosaic dark.

Leaning against the balcony rail, Raven stared at the darkened hall. Everything around her made her redefine her understanding of the word "opulent." She was used to large homes and sprawling interiors, but as bases of operation, not palaces of splendor.

A throat cleared softly behind her. She turned and found Dominic standing at a noticeable distance. He wore sweatpants and a monogrammed silk dressing robe, and spoke in a tight, carefully neutral tone, as if she were a wild animal he feared to startle. "I hope you don't think less of me because I live in a mansion," he said.

Raven could hear tepid truth behind the joke. She turned back to the sight of the hall. His voice still echoed faintly off the far stained glass window.

It struck Raven how empty such a large house felt. There was no empathic noise in the background to offset Dominic's trepidation. She and he were the only souls in the mansion, and she gathered that such an occurrence wasn't uncommon. "You live here?" she asked, incredulous that anyone could call such a lonely place home. Anyone besides her, that is.

"With my mother. Though she's gone a lot," he said. He looked uncertain of what to do with his hands, and so he placed them in the pockets of his robe. "Come on. I think I remember there being a kitchen somewhere downstairs. It shouldn't be impossible to find."

She trailed behind Dominic down the stairs, always remaining several steps behind him regardless of his pace. As her eyes wandered the mansion, she kept him always in peripheral sight.

They traversed the cavernous hall, and then a gloomier corridor, and came upon his fabled kitchen. It was larger than that of many restaurants, and clean to the point of sterilization. There were industrial ovens, gas ranges, two walk-in freezers, and more equipment that Raven couldn't identify. She gravitated to a stool set at the counter while Dominic flipped the lights, illuminating the room in white brilliance.

As with everything else in the mansion, the kitchen gave Raven pause. "I have to say, I didn't expect this of you. This…house, I mean," she admitted, while Dominic unsealed one of the large walk-ins. "Everything about this place feels…"

"Compensatory?" he called from inside the walk-in.

When he came out with a gallon of milk and a covered tray, she had an annoyed look waiting for him. "I was going to say, 'grandiose.' This isn't the lifestyle you project," she told him.

Dominic shrugged as he set the food down to search for flatware. "I always felt more like a Jughead than a Richie Rich, I guess. I like comfortable clothes and hamburgers better than spats and foie gras. The tops hats and monocles come in handy when I'm rounding the Boardwalk, though. It's the only way to pass Go in style."

As he set a plate before her, Raven scrutinized his straight face. "Why do you do that? You make jokes when I ask you something about yourself," she said.

He lifted the platter cover, revealing three-quarters of a triple layer fudge cake that won Raven over with its smell alone. Her mouth watered at the slab that Dominic plated for her. He dished his own slab, and then poured milk for the both of them. "I joke," he said, filling her glass, "because I'm feeling really vulnerable right now. You make me nervous, Raven."

Her fork paused halfway to her mouth. She stared as he pulled a stool to the opposite side of the counter. After all the butterflies her stomach had endured on his behalf, his admission sounded ridiculous. "How on Earth do I make you nervous?" she said.

Flecks of frosting followed his derisive laugh. "Now you're the one who's joking. You're a high-profile super hero, probably one of the most powerful people on the planet, amazingly beautiful, and you're dating someone like me? Some guy who accosted you in a chain bookstore with Emily Dickenson?"

Raven's cheeks darkened. She looked down, popping her fork into her mouth. "Stupid," she mumbled around the best cake she had ever tasted.

Raising a stern eyebrow, he added, "And even if none of that were true, there'd still be the fact that I like you. I like you a lot, Raven. Much too much to ever consider you a notch in my gay, gay bedpost." His voice and eyes trailed bitterly to his sweet cake.

Raven swallowed in guilt. "You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry," she said. They spent a moment emptying their plates, keeping their eyes lowered in mutual dread. Raven's appetite betrayed her, leaving her with a bare plate first and no excuse. She looked up, and said, "We're avoiding the real issue here."

Lifting his glass, Dominic asked, "What's that?"

A three-toed talon of black ether stretched across the mouth of his glass, pressing it back to the countertop. Dominic looked up as Raven pulled her soul-self back, and said, "This. You. What you—we—are. You can't pretend it's a coincidence. How am I supposed to trust you when you keep something like that hidden from me?"

Dominic leveled a piercing look at her. "Do you friends know what you are? Have you told them?"

Raven bit her lip. She recalled Robin's words at their battle in Jump City. He had known, somehow. She was sure of it. But Robin was gone. The rest of the Titans only knew of her extra-dimensional origin, and not the whole story. "They know enough," she said lamely.

"That's what I thought. It's not something I talk about. It's not something any of our kind talks about if we can help it," he said. "It's a miracle my mother carried me to term. She was attacked by a soldier demon, and…"

She guessed the rest. "Some women don't have a choice. The stronger the demon, the more likely that the…conception is irreversible," she said darkly.

"Your father was…?"

Storm clouds hooded her eyes. "…not a soldier demon," she said. "I was…"

Raven hesitated. She had only ever told her tale to Starfire, and that had been out of necessity. And even then, Starfire knew nothing of her heritage. But Dominic already did. And looking into his eyes, Raven saw genuine curiosity mixed with something else, something she had never seen for her in another person, not even from her own mother. It parted the storm clouds in her, giving way to a flood she hadn't realized she had been holding back.

She told him of Azarath. She told him of Arella, or what little she knew about the mother she was hardly allowed to see. She spoke of Azar, of the priests of Azarath, of becoming one of them and accepting their vestments, and, when she could stay no longer for risk to her home, of coming to Earth.

Her tale lasted an eternity, during which Dominic did not speak. He listened, nodding, visibly bursting to ask more, yet letting her talk. When Raven finished, she couldn't believe how easily the story had left her.

He sipped his milk for a moment, making sure she had finished. Then he said, "Wow. I…wow. I wish I had something that exciting to tell you."

Raven knew better, but did not say so. Instead, she said, "I have enough excitement in my life. Tell me about you."

Dominic told her about growing up on the East Coast as a child of old wealth. He and his mother had moved to Jump City shortly before Slade's Attack. Their home, deep in the distant and wealthiest suburbs, had suffered little damage. He had finished prep school last fall, and had gotten a day job simply for something to do.

Though his story was shorter, Raven let him finish without interruption. Listening came easier to her than speaking. "And that's when I met you," he said. "I saw you in the bookstore, and I…I could sense you. What you were. Are."

She frowned. "But why couldn't I sense you?" she asked. Even now, she felt no demonic stirrings in him, as if he were just another human. Normally demons and demi-demons raised terrible alarm in Raven's senses.

Dominic actually looked sheepish. "You're a lot more powerful than I am. Plus, growing up here—on Earth, I mean—I couldn't exactly be open about what I was. I've learned to control my thoughts and emotions to hide what I am. People just think I'm the weird, pale rich kid."

Quiet hesitation quivered in Raven's lips. There was something he wasn't telling her, she knew. She wanted to ask him about his emotional control. Was that the reason for the peace she felt when she touched him? But she did not ask. They had pried into each other's lives so much so recently that she did not want to push him, or herself, any harder.

"We're avoiding the other issue here," Dominic said. "What happens next?"

Raven stared at her plate, unable to answer. She didn't know if she could answer. No, that wasn't it. The problem lay in that she knew what her answer had to be, and she wanted to give him the complete opposite. She wanted to tell him exactly how she felt, even if she wasn't sure of what those feelings were. But she could not.

The inner battle must have leaked into her face. Dominic leaned forward, not quite offering her his hand. "I didn't plan on tonight happening, Raven. But I'm not sorry it did," he admitted. "Like I said, I like you. Maybe…maybe more than like."

She closed her eyes, steeling herself, and said the exact opposite of what they both wanted to hear. "I can't. I can't feel that way about you. This has to end. I'm…sorry."

"Why?" He sounded hurt, but calmly confused. He wanted to know the reason behind her answer, not just reject it out of hand like a petulant child. "Why can't you?"

"Edon…"

The word slipped from her mouth without thought. Raven's eyes exploded. Her hands flew to her mouth, covering her gasp. The empty glasses in front of them cracked as her horror slipped from her grasp. She reined in her emotions, locking them tightly back into place and screwing her defenses over them in triplicate.

"Edon?" Dominic echoed with a frown. "What's Edon? …who? Who is Edon? Raven, talk to me."

Her eyes welled up at the word repeated. The name. His name. It was a memory she had fought to suppress every day of her life. It haunted her. It was the reason she gave him her answer again. "I can't. I'm so sorry," she said, and flew from her stool.

Dominic sprang up and grabbed her arm across the counter. He held her firmly, and said, "Raven, please. If that's the way you feel, I can accept it. But I don't think it is. I think you feel the same way about me." Piercing her with a look, he said, "Why is this 'Edon' thing keeping us apart?"

She shut her eyes, losing two tears as she bottled the rest. "I can't," she said again. "Please, if you knew… If you knew what I did…what I am…you wouldn't…"

Dominic's grasp eased. She could have broken it without effort, yet remained. The stillness of his touch beckoned her even through the raging storm of her own soul. "What did you do?" he asked.

It wasn't a demand, or even an accusation. He asked as though he could never imagine anything about Raven that could upset him the way she upset herself. He asked with such earnestness, with such quiet confidence in her. Raven could not help but acquiesce.

She stood in his gentle grasp, fighting to keep control of herself, and told him the story of Edon. Once more, Dominic listened. He possessed the patience of a statue, never moving, hardly breathing, and always meeting her gaze even when she could not meet his. When her story ended, and tears threatened her eyes again, Dominic stood. His hand slid down her arm as he rounded the counter to stand with her.

Taking her hand in his, Dominic told her, "I'm not afraid of you."

Raven felt her control slip. In his touch, she felt it so easy to let go, knowing the peace inside of him would protect her. In Dominic, she felt safe from the thundering emotions of the outside world, and from the distant torment of her father. But that freedom terrified her. If she lost control, even for a moment…

"I can't…" she whispered.

He took her in his arms, pulling her to him. Her chin rested on his chest as their eyes pooled together, unable to break. "You're scared. That's okay, so am I. But not of you," he said. "You can't be afraid of yourself either. You won't hurt me. I promise."

Red ether seeped from his hands. His eyes glowed white with arcane focus. Raven felt her whole body tingle as the ether spread over her skin, permeating her clothes to touch her everywhere at once. She stiffened, wondering if he would try to force her.

But he didn't. He stood there with his arms around her and his soul bared, looking down through a glow to ask a silent question.

Raven understood. She embraced him, linking her hands at the small of his back. Power burned in her eyes as blackness poured from her touch, soaking Dominic in the colors of midnight. Black and red swallowed the teens until only their white eyes pierced the colors to meet betwixt them.

They stood in the kitchen, wrapped in each other's soul. The sensation made them shiver. As the red and black pooled together into deep violet, an incredible connection surged into both of them. The link went beyond physicality, beyond sexuality, beyond friendship. They saw into each other's core, deeper than any two people could ever experience. Awash in the connection, they clutched one another and learned more in a heartbeat than they could in a lifetime.

The colors evaporated from their bodies, which heaved for breath in the afterglow of the moment. Dominic took Raven's face into his hands. He kissed her, pouring into her the passion she had showed him at the night's beginning.

Raven did not resist. She responded in kind. She still knew barely of his past, of his likes and dislikes, and of the paltry details that had terrified her a moment ago. She had looked into his soul, been held in his soul, and knew everything she needed to know about him.

Their kiss broke with another pant. Raven rested her head on his heaving chest, gasping, grasping him as her fear and doubt skirted her clouded thoughts once more. No matter her feelings, she could only silence her rational mind for so long. "I'm still scared," she admitted to him in a small voice.

"I'm not?" he said into her hair. "I mean, before tonight, I had never…I hadn't…yeah." He was glad she could not see his face as it turned bright scarlet. "I'm not asking for promises, Raven. I want a chance. I know I don't exactly fit into your world, but—"

"I want you to," she said into his chest, unwilling to break their embrace to look up. "I want you in my world. I want you," she murmured.

They lapsed into stillness, simply content to savor each other's touch. Their arms drew tighter, as though they feared the moment's end. Raven sensed doubts and fears in Dominic that mirrored her own. But beneath them, she sensed something much stronger. It floored her to imagine anyone feeling that way about her, but she knew she felt the same way for him. That terrified and exhilarated her.

A deep yawn rustled Raven's hair. She looked up into Dominic's gaping mouth, which he quickly covered. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. Glancing at the clock, he said, "I'm not used to this much drama so late at night."

Raven caught sight of the time. Another embrace like their last one might carry them through the sunrise. "Or early in the morning," she said.

They broke with reluctance. Raven caught his fingertips as they left her hip and held onto his peacefulness as long as she could. He could see what she was about to say, and beat her to it, asking her, "When can I see you again?"

Her fingers slipped from his. The turmoil in her hit her psychic defenses from the inside, stirring her father's hate. "Not today," she said. "I'm going to need a lot of meditation just to keep from blowing up at this point." She was glad for the smile her comment drew from him, even if she did mean it. "Tomorrow?" she asked.

He thought for a moment. "I have a thing in the morning. Lunch?"

"Where?"

With a knowing smile, he said, "I'll pick you up at your place. One-thirty sharp."

They sealed the pact with a long, longing look. Raven wanted nothing so much as to kiss him again, but her temples already pounded with the effort of controlling her emotions. Tasting and then abandoning his quieting touch again might end her. But what a way to go…

Desire surged up through Raven's closed gates. Before she could succumb to another kiss, she pushed the air aside, opening a portal. Her eyes lingered on Dominic as she backed through the cold, swirling breach. The look on his face was an eager promise. Then the portal swallowed her, whisking her between worlds.

She stepped from the shadows into her room. The portal shut behind her with a gust of cold, stirring the pages of the open books draped across her desk. Physical silence pervaded the Compound, save for the soft gasp of air conditioning from the vent. Outside, past her heavy drapes and her soundproofed windows, Raven could hear the cacophony of feelings from all over the city. Simple, confused emotions, those of dreams coming to an end with the impending dawn, inundated Raven's exhausted defenses.

Leaden steps carried her across the room. She hadn't realized until seeing her own bed how tired she was. But instead of crawling beneath the sheets, she floated over them, folding her legs beneath her. Her weary eyes closed as she quieted her mind and focused on her center.

"Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos." She chanted the words until they became a part of her. Then she stilled her lips, letting the words echo inside of her. The mantra flowed over her stormy feelings like a balm, and poured into the cracks of her psychic walls until they were whole again. Her mental grip tightened until her emotions choked and receded, returning to her the practiced peace she sought.

But as she relaxed her choke hold on the subdued emotions, she felt something new. It was a soft, gentle sensation, so deep and slight within her that her father's influence could not reach it, or could not use it, or both. It felt warm, and…nice.

She felt content.

No. She _was_ content.

The sensation threatened to make her smile and ruin her meditation's work. She stifled her joy and tentatively allowed that contentment to spread, slipping into it as she might a tepid bath. Tension in her body melted away. She floated down onto her bedspread, tired but wholly at peace.

With her emotions under control, and the rest of the world's sloppy feelings locked out, Raven opened her eyes. A sliver of sunlight streamed between her curtains. The clock had raced through her mediation, and now sat at a mid-morning hour.

Raven was a notorious early riser. If she slept now, as her body ached to do, the other Titans might wonder why she hadn't appeared the morning after her date. Her thoughtful gaze wandered to her desk, where she had left her meditation mirror. It reflected back to her the rumpled, disheveled, bed-headed sight of a girl Raven could scarcely believe was her.

She shucked her dress, donned a towel from her hamper, and teleported directly into the bathroom down the hall. The shower scoured her with scalding water as she scrubbed a bottle of body wash into her skin. She lathered, rinsed, and repeated her hair with three different berry scents of shampoo. Her fingers turned to ashen prunes by the time she finished. She brushed, flossed, brushed, and then brushed her teeth.

It took an hour before she teleported back to her room to dress. Five minutes and one deep breath later, she left her room to face the day. Two steps beyond her door, her stomach gurgled, giving her the first order of business.

Breakfast was in full swing downstairs in the Commons. Bushido plucked at a steaming bowl of rice at the counter while he read the paper. Pancakes sizzled and flipped at Cyborg's deft pan work over the stovetop. Sitting on the couch, Tek surfed through television channels in between dripping spoonfuls of her cereal.

Raven caught herself holding her breath as she entered the room. She forced air through her nose and walked stiffly to the refrigerator, where her tea leaves waited in a plastic bag. Thousands of imaginary eyes pressed upon her. They knew. They _knew_. She shook the feeling away and forced herself to act normal.

Cyborg glanced over as Raven closed the fridge. "Morning," he said cheerfully. "You get in late last night? The lobby didn't log any entrances."

"Yes. I…teleported," Raven said. She hid her moment's hesitation in the cupboard as she pulled out her teakettle. "I didn't want to disturb anyone. I teleported into my room last night."

Tek walked up next to her at the sink as Raven filled her teakettle. Unusually chipper, Tek hummed as she dumped out the dregs of her cereal, and asked, "So, how was your date? Did you have fun?"

Raven had to convince herself of the innocence of Tek's question. They know. They _know_! "Yes. It was nice," Raven said.

Grinning, Tek chirped, "That's great! Dominic seems like such a nice guy."

"You got to talk to him?" Cyborg asked Tek, and gave Raven a sly look that made her heart jump. "All I got to do was say 'hello' before they made me a third wheel. What's he like?"

Cyborg and Tek began a merry back-and-forth, sharing what little they knew about Dominic and parlaying the information into outlandish theories. As they posited his robo-vampiric heritage, Raven set her kettle on the stove to boil. A secret smile tugged her lips.

While the great Dominic debate snowballed on, Beast Boy appeared in the Commons doorway. His pajamas hung at a forty-five degree angle to his body, which loped with sluggish stiffness. Toe-claws clicked on the tile with each staggered step he took toward the refrigerator. His eyes blinked out of sequence, and his legs and arms moved on autopilot. Opening the fridge, he reached for the soy milk, uncapped it with his thumb, and hefted the jug to his lips. A sleepy sigh whistled through his nose.

Then he stopped. The jug hovered halfway between the open fridge and his open mouth as his nostrils tested the air. His head slowly turned to Raven, who stood next to him in peaceful obliviousness at the stove. Surprise widened his eyes into saucers and resounded in Raven's empathic senses, turning her head to meet his wide stare a moment too late to stop him.

"Holy crap!" he cried. "You had sex!"

All motion in the Commons ceased. Time and space came to a screeching halt, ending molecular motion in one trans-entropic moment of horror that filled the room. Cyborg and Tek stopped talking to stare at the blurted revelation. Caught in a storm of nightmarish attention, Raven could only glare at the ouster of her discretion.

The temperature of the room plummeted with the arctic stillness. Beast Boy slowly closed his mouth, realizing what he had done, and likely what Raven would now do to him. He looked around. Bushido's paper and chopsticks clattered onto the countertop, their owner nowhere in sight. Tek opened her mouth to say something, but Cyborg stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. Cyborg pulled Tek slowly toward the door, never taking his eyes off Raven as he and Tek backed out of the Commons.

Beast Boy felt his innards roll up into a ball beneath Raven's unblinking glare. He took a step back, lifting his hands. "Whoa. Okay. I am really, really sorry. That did not come out right. I mean, that shouldn't have come out at all. I, uh, I mean, I was kidding. I was kidding, guys!" he called to the empty doorway. "Ha! Ha. …ha?"

A ponderous breath filled Raven's chest. She closed her eyes and released the breath glacially, making Beast Boy wait in clenching fear until she finished. When she opened her eyes again, their temperature had warmed slightly. "Clearly I need to switch to a better body wash," she uttered, and returned to her tea preparation.

Still coiled and ready to run, Beast Boy said, "Seriously, Raven, I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"It's fine," she said flatly. "I don't need apologies. Let's just drop it."

Beast Boy dug his claws from the tile to risk a tentative step forward. When Raven continued to pour out her tea leaves, and mystic forces didn't turn him inside-out, he unfurled the wadded ball of intestines clenched in his chest. By all appearances, he would survive at least the next few minutes. Once her tea was ready and Raven became caffeinated, he wouldn't be so certain.

He celebrated his stay of execution with a drink straight from the carton in his hand. But somewhere around his third gulp, a realization struck him hard. He choked and sprayed soy milk across the counter. Coughing, he exclaimed, "You? Had sex?"

Raven slammed her palm on the countertop, crushing her bag of leaves. The lights above her fizzled and popped. "What part of 'drop it' confused you?" she said through her teeth. "Even you have to be able to figure out that I do not want to talk about this."

"You had sex!" he cried, throwing his hands in the air, sloshing soy milk across the floor. "I can't believe it!"

Her scowl narrowed into twin slits of burning twilight. "What's that supposed to mean?" she said. Two more lights in the Commons died with a _pop_.

"No, I mean, I seriously can't believe it," he said, clutching his hair. "I mean, the idea, it doesn't make sense. Like if the sky turned out to be a big blue monster that burped chocolate pudding whenever it felt sad. It's scientastically impossible! If I didn't smell it on you…"

She watched his face screw with disgust. "Gee, thanks," she smarmed.

"Oh, man, I can smell it! That means particles of it are going up my nose!" He grasped his face and made retching noises.

Enough was more than enough. Raven shoved past him and stalked toward the door, drawing her cloak about her. "It's nice to see you're taking this as maturely as I expected," she snapped.

Still clutching his nose, Beast Boy retorted nasally, "You wanna talk mature? Miss 'I hop in bed with El Gotho Magnifico right out of the starting gate?' Huh?"

The long windows of the Commons webbed with dozens of cracks and fogged at the intense cold that stormed the room. Raven whirled on the spot, her eyes glowing dangerously in a glare that made him drop his hands. The soy milk hit the floor and gushed over his bare feet.

Steam rolled from her sharp tongue. "You're judging me? You? You let Terra ravish you the same night she blew up our home and laid waste to the city!"

Terra's name brought Beast Boy's fangs from his mouth. His slitted pupils flexed with anger as he growled, "Yeah, I slept with Terra. My friend. My girlfriend! Who I knew! Not some random guy I just met last week."

"Dominic is not some random guy," she said, her voice rising above his. "He's someone I care about."

"And what are we?" Beast Boy demanded. "If you care about him, then what about us?"

Confusion steeped her heated reply. "What? Are you saying I should sleep with you too? Are you really so hard up, Garfield?"

"Ew! _Eww!_" he squealed, and cringed.

"Honestly, I'm trying to understand what's making you act like a colossal jackass right now, but I suppose I can't shut off that much of my brain."

He bristled, and shouted, "We've been living together for two years! Two! Years! And after all that time, you barely give me the time of day! But in comes Johnny-Come-Gothly, who sweeps you off your feet, and gets everything from you with…what? A smile and a wink? Cheap cologne? What does it take to get through this creepy ice queen thing of yours, Raven? Why do we get the cold shoulder and not him?"

Raven's whole face quirked. "You're…jealous?" she said.

"I'm pissed!" he burst. "I've—'We've' been trying to get you to open up for years. I've been in your head, for God's sake! But we get put-downs and snarky comments and doors slammed in our faces. You act like you can't stand us! Like being around us, being with us, is nothing but a pain in the ass for you! But him? Him? He gets the…the…the whole pie!" he yelled.

His shoulders dropped steadily as he huffed for breath. The bitter look on his face relaxed into an expression of hurt. "I just thought…" His voice dropped in volume and pitch. "I thought, with the way you helped me deal with…with Terra…with this," he said, and bared his clawed hands. "I just thought…"

The kettle on the stovetop whistled with a burst of steam.

Raven's hood glowed with the strength of her glower. She straightened, the ends of her cloak swishing with kinetic anger rolling off her body. "I'm sick of this," she uttered. "I'm sick of your whining. I'm sick of your jokes. I'm sick of being your Terra patch. I'm sick of _you_, Garfield. For once, I've finally found something—someone—who makes me happy. And all you can do is attack me because of it?"

Her glare didn't rattle him. It hardened his cat-like eyes into a scowl. "I thought we were friends," he said, finishing his thought.

Her eyes narrowed. "If this is how you treat your friends, then think again," she told him coldly.

Beast Boy's features sank with feral spite. He stalked past her, brushing through the edge of her billowing cloak. His spite and hurt burned against her psychic walls. As he left, he swiped the door frame, leaving claw marks in stainless steel. His clicking footsteps faded down the hall.

A deep breath steadied Raven's frazzled nerves. She shut off the stove to silence her whistling kettle. Then she sank against the countertop and buried her face in her hands. She needed more meditation and sleep, in that order, and immediately.

Her words to Beast Boy had been mean. Perhaps deserved, perhaps even necessary, but mean nonetheless. She didn't know how to apologize for the outburst, or even that she should. He had started the whole mess with his hyperactive nose and total lack of thought-to-mouth filter.

Her deep breath turned into a sigh. Suddenly, distantly, she was glad she would not see Dominic today. Their situation was becoming more complicated than she had feared.

**To Be Continued**


	21. A Love Story, Part II

* * *

**Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

_A Love Story, Part II_

"_The Church of Blood emphasizes unity above everything else. Communities, families—especially family—we're all about bringing people together for the greater good,_" he said to his chipper morning host and interviewer. "_Blood binds us, both physically and spiritually. It's up to us to make the emotional connection, between individuals, people like you and me. That is the mission of the Church._"

Skip Kensington shifted in his seat, keeping his lips poised at the immense microphone perched before him. "_Absolutely fantastic, Brother Blood,_" he said. "_But many people remain skeptical of your persistent do-gooder image. No offense, but it might have something to do with the mask._"

The radio booth rang with Blood's laughter. He touched the silver skull mask that covered his face, and then ran his finger along the edge of the golden goatal helmet around it. Skip's two co-hosts chuckled uneasily with him. "_I'll admit, some of our traditions may appear strange. But this mask, as you call it, is meant to ensure that the message of the Church comes from a symbol, not any one face. As the Brother Blood, I stand as a figure apart from the personal edicts of a man._"

"_And yet, in the last ten years, you've made a lot of changes to the Church,_" Skip pointed out.

Raven muted the broadcast, unable to stand another minute of Brother Blood's self-serving drivel. She swiveled away from her console monitor to the hovering holographic Alert map that dominated Ops' space.

The interview with Blood on WJMP's morning show had been video recorded live, and was now being rebroadcast on every local station. Skip and his asinine Hoppers were just the latest to check into the biggest cult craze to sweep California since Kabala. It made her sick to think of so many weak-willed individuals falling under Blood's sway.

"Raven? How's it going?"

Cyborg entered Ops from the left, walking casually around the central projector and its map. His voice and face remained neutral to a fault as he took a seat at the console next to Raven's.

"Do you mean me or the city?" Raven asked archly.

He shrugged. "Both?"

Impatience jetted from Raven's nose. She turned back to her console, swiveling away from Cyborg. "What makes you think I wouldn't be okay?" she asked.

When her fingers brushed the console, it blared with Skip's animated voice. "_—anks to Brother Blood for stopping by the studio. Coming up next, we've got our weekly funny face contest here on WJMP, The Jump. Stick around for traffic and weather—_" She quickly mashed the button to banish the broadcast from her screen.

"Maybe I need to brush up on my Revelation," Cyborg said, "but I'm pretty sure the four Horsemen were Death, War, Pestilence, and Raven Watching Televised Morning Talk Radio Shows. Should I be on the lookout for locusts?"

Her cheeks darkened with embarrassment. "You're a riot," she muttered. "Was there a point to this visit? You aren't due to relieve me for another hour."

Cyborg laced his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the console. He stared down at Sector Prime laid beneath the balcony, and quipped as casually as he could, "Guess I just wanted to see how you were doing. Haven't seen much of you since yesterday."

"Maybe that's because everyone is avoiding me," Raven pointed out. She aimed her gaze elsewhere as he did. "I thought Tek was going to wet herself when I relieved her from monitor duty this morning."

"She was probably just afraid you were going to go Carrie on her like you did to the Commons yesterday," he said coolly.

Her temper crackled beneath her careful control. She had meditated for hours to avoid a repeat outburst. That did nothing to dampen the glare she shot sidelong at Cyborg. "If you're here to take Beast Boy's side, you can save your breath. I'm not apologizing," she told him.

Cyborg snorted at the open air past the rail. "I'm on my Compound's side. I spent yesterday afternoon putting in new windows and changing light bulbs. You and Gar can kill each other for all I care, just as long as you keep the property damage to a minimum. From what I heard, you're both jerks."

"Eavesdropping?" she asked archly.

"I've got a good ear," Cyborg said, and tapped the metal side of his head. "And the walls are pretty thin. Besides, you two weren't exactly being quiet. I've never heard you so riled up, 'cept maybe at Doctor Light. We're worried about you. I'm sure Gar is too, in his own stupid way."

His casual tone irritated her. He sounded as though he were discussing the weather. Rounding her glare upon him fully, she snapped, "You won't even look at me. You sound like you're tiptoeing around a hungry lion. Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, it's supposed to make me feel better," Cyborg said, letting some of his own irritation seep into his voice. "You took apart a room with a hissy fit. Then you go and shut everybody out with this look that makes anybody with two brain cells know to steer clear. I'd give you a hug if I didn't think I'd fly apart afterwards." Turning, he pinned her to her seat with a pointed look. "So don't chew me out because I want to help, Raven."

A retort filled her chest. She poised her sharp tongue for a cutting reply. But when his serious look remained steadfast, she deflated. Sinking further into her cloak, she muttered, "I'm sorry. About the windows."

Cyborg's expression softened. "I don't care about the windows," he said. "Okay, I do. But I'm still worried about you. This whole, um, 'thing' really has you shaken up. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Raven emptied her frustrations with a sigh. The problem was, she had plenty more frustration to replace those she just exhaled. "I keep expecting to wake up. This all feels like some surreal dream. There's a smart, funny, nice guy who's actually interested in me," she admitted. "I guess I still find it hard to believe, and it's making me…difficult."

"It's not that hard to believe," Cyborg said. At Raven's glance, he waved his hands, and stammered, "Not that I…I mean, it's not that I wouldn't…just that I don't… This is the part where I go back to listening."

Her maudlin expression turned wry. "It's just different. I don't do well with different. You might have noticed that. It's just going to be a matter of me… How did you put it? 'Put my freak-out in a lock box.' And stop getting so worked up that I tear apart my teamma…my friend's questionable architecture."

Cyborg smiled at last. Standing, he threw out his arms, and said, "See? Look how warm and fuzzy that was. You're getting better already. I think someone's ready for her hug."

A wall composed of glowing black bricks materialized between them. Cyborg's nose bounced off the wall as he stepped forward. Sobering, Raven dissipated the soul-wall, turned back to her console, and said, "Don't push it."

Rubbing his nose, Cyborg stepped back and asked, "So, uh, when are you gonna see him again?"

Raven glanced at the teasingly slow clock on her monitor. "We're supposed to have a late lunch today. After I'm done with monitor duty, I should have just enough time to get ready."

"Cool. Cool," Cyborg said, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually, why don't you get ready now? I'll take over for you. I can take my shift mobile anyway," he said, and tapped his arm. Its holographic display lit with a smaller version of the Alert map. "I know how you gals never have enough time to primp and pluck and power-sand, or whatever it is you do."

"Thanks," Raven said, tapping her keyboard. "But it's only another hour. It's probably better if I have something to occupy my time. If I think about it too long, I'd probably just work myself up again, and you'd be right back to replacing light bulbs."

A wave of Cyborg's nervousness prickled against her empathic senses, making her pause. "So what you're saying is, less time to get ready would actually be better, right?" Cyborg asked.

Raven swiveled in her chair, lancing him with a look. "What did you do?" she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

Picking at his nonexistent fingernails, Cyborg said innocently, "What? Nothing. Nothing."

Her console beeped, interrupting her impending interrogation. Raven tapped the keyboard to bring the SARAH Sim's eager features to her monitor. _"Hello! There is currently—__**one**__—visitor waiting in the lobby with a pending appointment. He is—__**three**__—minutes early, and would like to speak with Cyborg._"

The monitor changed again, this time to a live image of the lobby from Sarah's point of view. Raven felt her innards dance nervously at the sight of Dominic looming in her monitor, looking uncertain, his face warped by Sarah's fishbowl view. "_Hello?_" he asked. "_Am I…? Am I supposed to talk into it? Her? Hello?_"

Raven whirled upon Cyborg, who smiled nervously. "Did I say 'nothing?' I meant 'nothing that you'd kill me over,'" he said. When she rose from her seat, Cyborg took three steps back and said from behind raised hands, "You can't kill me and go greet lover boy at the front door at the same time!"

Her icy glare lingered on Cyborg while Dominic called uncertainly in the background. "I'll be researching a spell for that," Raven told Cyborg darkly, and masked her face in the shadows of her hood.

She leapt from Ops and glided through Sector Prime, her cloak flapping behind her with the urgency of her flight. Dominic was far too early, something which Cyborg had evidently expected. Those two oddities combined were enough to raise alarum in her. Add the fact that she hadn't brushed her teeth since her morning tea, and she felt ready for panic.

The security door slammed aside at the touch of her soul-self. Raven hit the ground running, and then staggered as she remembered herself. She forced herself to walk coolly into the lobby with a superficial calm, hiding her quickened breath behind tight lips and the drape of her cloak.

Dominic stopped talking into Sarah's face with a grateful sigh when he saw Raven. "Thank goodness," he said. "That felt really rude. I know she's a hologram, but you guys need to get an intercom that doesn't look like a person."

His clothes made Raven pause. He wore shorts and a T-shirt, both obviously new, and a Jump City Jackrabbits baseball cap that still had its price tag dangling from the back. A soft cooler dangled at his side from a strap over his shoulder. Everything he wore and had looked like he had bought it this morning, and hurriedly.

"Dominic, what's going on?" she asked.

Confusion spread beneath the flat bill of Dominic's cap. He set his cooler down and said, "What are you talking about? Cyborg said this was your idea."

Ice trickled through Raven's veins. Her eyes drew into slits. "Cyborg said 'what' was my idea?" she said slowly.

Before Dominic could reply, the Titan in question jogged into the lobby with a readied grin. He brushed past Raven to throw an arm around Dominic's shoulders, scooping the lanky teen off the floor. "Dominic! Good to see you. You find the place okay?"

"Uh, yeah. It's a giant T," Dominic said slowly, casting a startled look at Raven as he swung in Cyborg's half-grasp.

Cyborg deposited him back to the floor and picked up the cooler. "Right on time. What's all this? Aw, you didn't have to bring anything."

Dominic's confusion turned from Raven to Cyborg. "But you asked me to pick up some soda and potato sa—"

"All right!" Cyborg perched the cooler on his shoulder. "This'll be great for the cookout…that Raven planned…" he drawled, suddenly remembering Raven's fuming presence behind him. "Right, Raven? The cookout that you planned? The one that was your idea?" he asked, leaning down toward her.

He began blinking his eye hard. It was only after the fifth time that Raven realized he was trying to wink. She glared harder, half-hoping to lose control and blow out his red optic so he could wink for real.

Impervious to her glacial gaze, Cyborg hefted the cooler and said, "Whelp, you two can say your hellos, wink-wink, nudge-nudge, and then come on down to the kitchen. We've got burgers to pack, and it'll be better if we get 'em done before Gar starts in with his one-man vegan protest shtick."

Cyborg scampered from the lobby, leaving Dominic to weather Raven's eyes alone. Dominic shivered in his shorts as Raven said in a slow, grinding voice, "Cyborg told you that I wanted you to come to a cookout today. Exactly when did he tell you this?"

"I, uh, called your communicator last night. Just to talk," Dominic said, shrinking under her glare. "It must have been turned off, or something, because I got routed to the lobby, and then to this automated system. Finally I get something called 'monitor duty,' and Cyborg picks up."

Raven said nothing. Her grinding teeth did all the talking.

"As soon as he figured out who I was, we got to talking. Then he said you wanted me to come over for lunch today, that you wanted me to meet 'the gang.' Next thing I know, I'm offering to pick up potato salad and bring a Frisbee. I wasn't even sure where you go to buy a Frisbee before today."

She massaged the bridge of her nose, dipping her head to hide her grimace behind her hood. "How could you possibly think I would think of something like this? 'Why' would you think I would want something like this?" she said.

A small, wistful wisp breached Dominic's calm, making Raven look up. His idiotically hopeful expression melted the ice in her veins. "I don't know," he said with a sagging shrug. "I guess I just hoped that you meant it when you said you wanted me in your world…"

Her shoulders fell. She drew back her hood to reveal her annoyance. "That was a low blow," she muttered.

His pout became half of a smile. "All's fair, and all that," he said, and opened his arms.

Raven fell into his embrace. She basked in his peace, allowing it to massage away her annoyance. The last of her foul mood left her in one last, snarky puff. "You look stupid in those shorts," she said, and rested her head on his chest.

Patting her back, Dominic muttered, "That's it, let it all out. I'd hate for us to fight at this cookout you planned for everybody."

A smile stormed her face. She buried it in his shirt to hide it from the both of them. "This is going to be such a disaster," she moaned into him.

Dominic smoothed down her hood-hair. "It's just burgers with your friends. How bad could it be?" he asked.

The question became lost in a deafening klaxon and red light that flashed from all around. Raven immediately broke from Dominic to pull her communicator, readying a portal to leap into action. Then she stopped dead, and felt a headache blossom as Cyborg's voice filled the Compound.

"_Calling all Titans! Report to the patio for a Level Five barbecue. And we've got company, so wear something snazzy._"

Raven groaned into her palms.

* * *

The sunny patio was made a maelstrom of discomfort by the odd collection of teenagers gathered around its table. Raven sat at the heart of the emotional tempest, wondering if murder-suicide was her only way out of this awkward ordeal, or merely her best way out. She could think of no other means of escape.

Dominic sat an appreciable distance from her side, sipping nervously at a bottle of soda. His gaze wandered the street-clothed heroes around the table. He couldn't decide whether to be awed or terrified. "So," he drawled.

Tek sat at his other side and hadn't stopped staring at him since they had all sat down. The spaghetti straps of her blue sundress swelled with a swooning sigh. "It's just so great that you're here," she gushed, making Raven wince at the force of her enthusiasm. "You have no idea how cool it is to finally have someone normal here!"

"Um, thank you," he said.

Her face fell immediately. "Uh, I didn't mean that we're all freaks or anything. Or that, uh, you're not special. 'Cause you are, obviously. Oh, but I don't mean… It's just that… Well, you'd have to be special to, y'know, date…Raven…"

Her face burned red as she trailed off, sinking into her seat for protection from Raven's mortified glare. Dominic's pale face reddened empathetically as he attempted a casual shrug. "Hey, it's cool. I've always been a big fan of you guys and what you do. I'm the one who should be embarrassed. I read about you all the time, but I hardly know anything about you guys."

Lounging comfortably in a white polo shirt and dark slacks, Bushido sipped from a bottle of sparkling water. His katana hung sheathed on his back. "We prefer a quiet life of privacy and anonymity as opposed to the fanatical hero worship of some of our peers," he said sagely.

Uh, cool," Dominic said. "So what do you do in your free time, Mister…Bushido? What should I call you?"

Raven's jaw clenched with tension enough to torque a steel girder. "Just call him Bushido," she said. "And he's only here because it's safer than letting a murderer like him run free."

"'Alleged' murderer," Bushido said cheerfully to Dominic's shocked look.

Horrified, Tek glanced between them. "Former murderer!" she protested. "Uh, I mean, Ryuko's a Titan now, just like the rest of us. We're all good guys here. And gals. Good guys and gals. And we're all more interested in getting to know you, Dominic. You seem so interesting."

Her innocent interest took Dominic aback. "Thanks. But I'm not that interesting. Not like you guys, anyway. I mean, I don't have an origin story, or a secret identity, or anything. I'm just…me?"

"More the pity," Bushido said. "The relationship will likely not last if that's the case." As he took another drink, he noticed two sets of furious female eyes bear down upon him. "What?" he asked.

The patio door slid aside, robbing Raven of the chance to eviscerate Bushido with her mind. Cyborg stepped out of the Commons wearing a backwards baseball cap and an enormous apron that bore depictions of cartoonish cogs around the words _Upgrade the Cook!_ He carried a platter of raw hamburger patties in one hand, and a series of platters balanced on his other arm, with buns, potato salad, chips, and condiments.

"Aw, yeah, y'all!" he crowed, and swept the platters onto the table. "Let's fire it up so we can chow down!"

Glad for the change in topic, Dominic looked around. "You'd, uh, need a grill for that to happen first."

Tek looked around as well. She couldn't recall the team grilling out since that day at the beach last year. Aside from a few lawn chairs and their long table, the stone patio was empty. "Do we even have a grill anymore, Vic?" she asked.

Cyborg chuckled. "'Do we have a grill,' she asks, knowing who she's talking to. Titans, Titanettes—and esteemed guest—prepare to behold the Ninth Wonder of the world. The eighth being yours truly."

He struck his hands over bare, smooth patio stone and waggled his fingers. Humming a Wagnerian score, he sent a wireless command into the ground. The seamless stone split and slid aside, revealing smooth, polished stainless steel. The metal rose from the stone as a large platform that grew until it reached Cyborg's waist. Then, at his digital command, the platform folded open and extended into a series of gas-grill sections, each large enough to support a full side of ribs.

Cyborg orchestrated the grill's ascendance as a master conductor, waving his hands to guide the grill's components into place. Before him appeared a grill with enough space to cook two full cows with room to spare. "I present to you the Cy-Grill," he said, "a masterpiece of outdoor food preparation technology capable of putting out two hundred thousand BTUs, with eight major cooking surfaces, and," he added, pulling open its front door, "full rotisserie capability for you poultry lovers."

The grill dwarfed every other item and person present on the patio. Given wheels, it might have doubled as a compact car. "I'm surprised you didn't make it play a Latin choir when it rose out of the ground," Bushido noted dryly.

The grill lit with a soft puff of combustion. Intense heat rippled the air, turning the warm day hot in an instant. Everyone at the table immediately reached for the cooler to open a new cold drink. Cyborg took that as a point of pride, but adjusted the fire to a saner level.

"Dominic, let's get this shindig rolling. Meat me!" Cyborg said.

"Meet you?" Dominic asked, while Raven cradled her face in embarrassment. His eyes fell to the platter of patties. "Oh."

As Dominic stood to bring the platter to the grill, a tall figure dressed in purple and white emerged through the patio door. Beast Boy, still dressed in his uniform, took two gruff steps from the door, and then stopped dead upon sight of Dominic.

Both boys stood frozen, facing each other with a plate of raw meat between them. Their wide eyes wandered each other with mutual surprise. Dominic recovered first to shift his platter to one arm and free his other for a handshake.

"You must be Beast Boy. I'm Dominic. You're a lot taller in person," he said.

A long, slow breath rolled into Beast Boy's nose as he stared at the proffered hand. His senses tasted and weighed every aspect of Dominic on levels even he didn't fully understand. Buried deep within Dominic's scent, Beast Boy found…something.

Beast Boy's eyes narrowed. A low rumble resounded from his throat. His hackles rose on the back of his neck. A sliver of white appeared between his curling lips.

Dominic leaned back slowly, lowering his hand. His voice dropped into a murmur, which he aimed over his shoulder at the table. "Is…Is he growling at me?"

Raven's stomach sank in mortification as Cyborg rushed forward, stepping between the two. The massive Titan took the platter in one hand as his free arm scooped Beast Boy to the opposite side of the table. "Gar, growling? Nah! He's just hungry, 's all. Right, _Gar_?"

A hearty Cyborg-shove dropped Beast Boy into a seat between Tek and Bushido. The shapeshifter glowered all around while Cyborg took the meat to the grill. Cyborg's surreptitious glare and waggling spatula made Beast Boy grunt, "Yeah, super-hungry. Nice to meet you, **Dom**."

Sitting with some uncertainty, Dominic said, "Nice to be met. I was wondering if I would get to meet the whole team today. Like I told Tek and, er, Bushido, I read all about you guys in the news."

Beast Boy's narrowed eyes flicked between the cautiously cheerful Dominic and his abashed lady love, whose face was hidden in the shadows of her hood. A cheshire smile revealed Beast Boy's fangs, which flashed at Dominic. "Heck, call me Gar. Raven's just told us so much about you, it's like you're one of the team already," he said.

"She has?" Tek asked. Then she yelped as her chair rattled with an under-the-table kick.

"She has?" Dominic echoed, looking to Raven in surprise. Her head sank lower. Affecting his best smile, Dominic said, "Well, hopefully she left out all the nasty parts," and laughed weakly.

Beast Boy laughed with him. "Oh, she's got nothing but good things to say about you. Of course, you'd have to be a real sweetheart to date a gal like Raven. She's our special girl."

"Uh, she sure is," Dominic said. He looked around, confused. Tek was rubbing her shin, while Bushido watched the conversation raptly and sipped his water. Raven was nothing more than a hood, cloak, and shadow at this point.

"Of course, it isn't easy getting to know someone like Raven," Beast Boy continued, heedless of Dominic's look, and of the glare aimed at him from Raven's hood. "She can be kind of cold to new people. Especially friendly guys like you. Oh, what's the word I'm looking for? Frigid?"

The glass bottle in front of Raven split with a hairline crack. Soda frothed and dribbled down its neck to pool on the table.

Dominic frowned, and said, "I wouldn't say that at all. And I think you shouldn't, either."

Beast Boy's smile widened sickeningly. "Just what was it that attracted you to our wonderful, closed-off, cute-as-a-button Raven anyway?"

"Gar!" Tek cried.

"Hey…" Dominic said, half-rising from his chair.

"It's the sex, isn't it?" Beast Boy asked with a faux-conspiratorial wink. "Sixteen years of repression must really—"

A half-cooked hamburger patty landed squarely on Beast Boy's face. Raw juices dripped into his eyes, his nose and mouth, filling his senses with the sensation of a fresh kill seasoned with garlic. Something deep and feral in him rumbled in delight while he gagged and tore the patty off his face.

Cyborg slammed the spatula down on the grill and stormed over to Beast Boy. His tone and cheer were strained to their limits as he chimed, "Whoops! Sorry, Gar. That one got away from me. Let's go get you cleaned up. Watch the grill for me, guys!"

He cast one apologetic look in Raven's direction as he dragged Beast Boy into the Compound. The sorceress couldn't even lift her head to meet the look.

Beast Boy bounced blind in Cyborg's grasp all the way through the Commons. By the time they reached the hallway, Beast Boy had cleared his eyes of meat, and saw the wall very clearly as Cyborg threw him into it. "Ow! What the hell?" he snapped.

Cyborg jabbed a finger at Beast Boy while the shapeshifter rose with the wall's help. "What is the matter with you? Are you crazy? Do you have rabies?" Cyborg demanded. "Because I am about ready to take you out back and Old Yeller your ass with some sonic sense." His arm mechamorphed into its cannon to drive the point home.

Shoving the cannon aside, Beast Boy said, "I was just about to get him to admit to it when you slapped that meat in my mouth! I think I'm going to blow my breakfast here," he said, clutching his stomach with a grimace.

Reverting his cannon into a tempted fist, Cyborg fumed, "Admit to what?"

"It! It!" Beast Boy insisted with an explosion of his hands.

"What 'it?'" Cyborg demanded.

"I don't know," Beast Boy snapped, and folded his arms. "But there's something about him, Vic. I can smell it. He smells…wrong. He's up to no good with Raven! And I almost had him cornered into admitting everything with my sneaky trick of getting him mad until you blundered everything up with your flying meat-saucer."

Cradling his face, Cyborg drawled, "What would Dominic admit to? What possible reason did your pea brain come up with to act like such a jackass? Because all you did back there was seriously piss off the really nice guy that Raven's dating."

"I don't know what it is yet!" Beast Boy shouted. "But there has to be something. I know he has an angle. I mean, why else would anyone ever date a jerk like Raven?"

Cyborg pinned Beast Boy to the wall with a smoldering glare. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but you are way out of line here, Gar. You're gonna apologize to Raven and Dominic for this after you take some time to cool off."

Disbelief spiked Beast Boy's cry. "You're taking 'his' side? He's the bad guy! My nose knows, Vic!" he said, and pointed to his face.

"I'm taking Raven's side. Now take a walk."

"But—"

"Take a walk, Gar," Cyborg said, and pointed down the hall.

Beast Boy glared at him with stung eyes. The shapeshifter stomped down the hall without another word, his skin abuzz with the fury of a dozen predators begging to be unleashed.

Cyborg watched his friend disappear around the corner. Then he slumped against the wall, feeling drained and miserable. He could only imagine how Raven felt. The whole point of this disastrous cookout was to show Raven that she didn't need to hide Dominic from them. Cyborg wanted her to feel like she could be herself in her own home as well as around her boyfriend. Now Cyborg would feel lucky if Raven ever spoke to him again, let alone brought Dominic around for a second visit.

Reassuming his host's smile, Cyborg trotted back out to the patio. "Sorry about that. Gar's gonna go…" He trailed off as he straightened his cap. Tek and Bushido were the only people left at the table. The burgers sizzled in symphony on the grill, the only sound to be found outside. Looking around, Cyborg grunted, "Gone, huh?"

Tek winced with apology, though part of that could have been the shin she still clutched. "Dominic said he needed to use the restroom, and asked Raven to show him. She ported them away."

Sighing, Cyborg said, "Sarah?" A SARAH Sim resolved next to him on the patio. She wore a puffy chef's hat and an apron over her pink skirt suit which read, _Overclocked, Not Overcooked_. In a miserable tone, Cyborg said, "Locate Raven."

Sarah chirped, "Raven's communicator signal is currently six point eight feet to my immediate right, and remaining stationary." She stepped around Cyborg, her heels clicking against the patio stone, and reached Raven's abandoned seat. Reaching down, Sarah picked up an abandoned communicator and showed it to Cyborg.

Glancing at the other pair in mild irritation, Cyborg said, "You two just let them go?"

Bushido finished his water. "One is wiser for watching a soap opera rather than becoming part of it," he said.

Cyborg sighed again. "Ain't that the truth," he said. Turning to the grill, he saw a lunch that needed salvaging, and said, "Well, we've got a ton of burgers and no one else to eat them."

"You'll excuse me," Bushido said, and rose from the table. "I don't eat red meat. But thank you for the water and the entertainment. I will be in my room if you need me."

Tek limped after him into the Commons. "Sorry, Vic. I'm gonna go to Medical and get my leg scanned. I think Gar gave me a hairline fracture or something. It's killing me. Sarah, could you please have a…um, another you…waiting for me there?"

"Of course, miss. A duplicate is already standing by," the chef-appareled Sarah said.

Cyborg watched the patio empty itself. Then he turned to the grill, and to the food piled high on the table. "Eight pounds of hamburger, two pounds of potato salad, three watermelons, and two bags of chips… Sarah?" he said.

"Yes, sir?" Sarah chirped.

"Get me my rib bib. I've got some serious work to do."

* * *

Raven settled back against Dominic's chest with a sigh that unbound the tight knot in her chest. A warm, gentle breeze stirred her hair into her eyes. She brushed them clear to gaze upon the distant city. The skyscrapers looked like models from the grassy ridge where her portal had deposited them.

Shifting, Dominic rested them both back against the trunk of a tree and cradled Raven in his lap. His deep sigh bounced her slowly, until she all but pooled on top of him. Together, they watched the city, its buzzing activity and deafening ether made still by the distance. The gentle song of the forests north of the city lulled their troubles to rest.

"I don't think there are words to apologize for how awful that was," Raven said. "In any language." Her hand rested on Dominic's bare leg curling around her.

Dominic wrapped his hands around her waist. His words tickled the hairs on her neck. "It wasn't all bad," he said.

"It was horrible."

"Okay, yes," Dominic admitted. "It was pretty bad. But Cyborg and Tek seemed really friendly. And Bushido seemed ambivalent, which I guess is a comparative plus. They're all good people. I can see why you're their friend. I just wasn't expecting…some things."

I never told Beast Boy anything," Raven said, turning in his lap so quickly that she accidentally elbowed his ribs. "He…guessed," she explained, blushing. The idea of telling Dominic that Beast Boy could smell certain aspects of their relationship made her modesty squirm.

He pulled her back to his chest. "He's obviously very protective of you…in his way. But he seemed really upset about something."

Raven's face darkened. "He's a toad," she uttered. "…and not just when he wants to be."

Her resentment echoed in the stillness of Dominic's touch, eventually fading into the sweet nothing that filled her. She let the feeling fizzle naturally instead of tamping it down as she normally would. Her father's hate could not reach her in Dominic's arms. Dominic was her shield, her protector.

As they lay beneath the tree on the ridge, she thought about what that meant, and what it would mean. Thus far she had only reacted to the freedom of his touch. Whatever muted emotions escaping her control to echo in his silence were one thing. But to fully let go? To have a real, whole emotion all to herself? No hatred to consume it, no outside world to drown it out? The notion thrilled her with the fear of the unknown.

She must have considered the possibility for some time, for Dominic grew nervous in her silence. He squirmed, moving his mouth from her hair to say, "He…Beast Boy, I mean, he, uh, raised kind of an interesting question. Um…why are you with me?"

Nervousness whispered in the stillness of his touch. It made Raven turn to consider him in disbelief. "What?" she asked.

His nervousness rose from whisper to shout beneath her twilight stare. "No," he said quickly, "it's just…I don't know. It was a stupid question."

Raven rested a hand on his cheek, silencing him. She stared into him, waiting until his nervousness became stillness once more. Then, releasing every last shred of control she possessed, she answered him in a way that needed no words. She summoned every butterfly in her stomach, every spark of lust he ignited in her, every thrill and fear, and lifted them from the quarantine deep inside her soul. She thrust her feelings into the silence, unafraid of her father's hate, yet terrified of how Dominic would react.

She kissed him, deep and slow, savoring the flavor of her own feelings unleashed. Almost at once, she felt new feelings swirl amidst her own. For an instant, she thought the magic of his touch had been undone, that the outside world was pouring into her to consume her as it had tried to do forever. But the feelings belong, not to a world, but to one man.

Dominic poured into her as she into him. Physically. Psychically. Completely. The choked emotions of two lifetimes crashed together into a tempest that filled Raven with something she never knew she had lacked.

Her burning lungs made her break the kiss. Raven panted, clutching Dominic's face. She touched her brow to his as the tempest calmed inside of her. She rose and fell as he heaved, running his hands along her sides.

"Good answer," he gasped.

"You make me feel like this," Raven said, amazed at the rush of her own feelings. "You _let_ me feel like this. I don't know why, and I don't care anymore." The reason didn't matter. Raven had found another soul, another person trapped between hell and earth as she was. Together, they made a whole.

Dominic froze at her revelation. "You…You feel it too, don't you?" he said in awe. "The quiet. When we touch, it's like…"

"You can feel it?" Raven asked. Her surprise was lost in the tide of her other emotions, like driftwood swallowed by a crashing wave. Running her hands through his hair, she said, "I've never felt anything like it before I met you. No ambient empathy, no noise, no…influences. Just…"

"Silence," Dominic finished. The corners of his mouth turned up. Raven may have imagined it, but she thought she felt the tiniest pang of sadness from him. It washed away in her loosed feelings too quickly to be anything but a fleeting worry.

His smile grew full, and then drew to her lips for a gentle kiss. Raven felt her head spin at the simple contact. It was small wonder she had blacked out the night they had spent together. She pulled away, expecting an electric charge to jump between their smiles. "You're amazing," she murmured.

He grinned, and stroked her hair. "I'm sitting on a pine cone," he whispered back, his voice slightly strained.

An alien sound leapt between them. Raven realized a second later, when her throat began to ache, that it was her, laughing. She floated up from his lap, listening to the sound of her laughter, careful to keep her hand in his. She helped him to his feet and then giggled as he dug a pine cone from the back of his ridiculous shorts.

Turning, she looked back upon the far-off city, smirking haughtily at its cacophony of feelings that could not touch her. The city glinted in the midday sun, glistening with possibility. "We have the whole day, and I have no communicator," she said, surprised at the cheery sound of her own voice. "What should we…? What are you doing?"

Dominic's free hand was wrapped in a phantasmal red claw. He used its long nail to scratch the bark of the tree. With a few deft etchings, their names took shape in the old tree, separated by a plus symbol. "Just recording something for future generations," he said. "They'd never believe it without proof. Sometimes even I find it hard to believe how real it is," he added, and smiled dopily.

Raven laughed again. It was a sound she could get used to. She leaned into him as they inspected his handiwork together. "If you're going to be clichéd, you may as well go for broke," she told him. Her black soul-talon pushed his red claw aside to carve a heart around their names.

Their soul-selves dissipated as they drew together, gazing at the carved proclamation on the tree trunk. After a moment, Dominic said, "So, you were saying? We've got a whole, beautiful day, and nowhere to be. What should we do?"

His touch tingled against her skin. She felt the contour of his body pressed through her vestments. Amidst the glorious storm of emotion in Raven, she felt those lustful sparks blossom. Her fingertips trailed the sculpt of his back.

Her eyes grew sly, and then flashed.

A portal opened beneath them to swallow the couple with cold darkness. Dominic yelped as he fell out of the warm forest and into a cool, dark, familiar room. He collapsed onto a mattress, and then curled with a _whuf_ around the sorceress that landed in his lap. Her cloak fell over them both, veiling her ravenous grin.

Dominic tossed aside the edge of her cloak to look upon the interior of his room through the gauzy curtains around his bed. When Raven pulled her knee out of his stomach, he found breath to say, "Most cultures frown on sudden teleportation without warning, you know."

She straddled his hips, pinning him to the mattress with her thighs. The cloak let her shoulders with a dramatic sweep to fall to the side. Her chest heaved with a desire that overwhelmed every conscious thought she had. "I'm sorry," she said, wholly unapologetic as she crouched atop him. "But you look so stupid in those clothes. I had to do something right away."

Black ethereal shears manifested in her hand. She swept the soul-shears through his shirt. The blade vanished before it reached Dominic's flinching face. His flinch fell to pieces as she swept the halves of his shirt aside to explore his chest with her mouth. "Raven, I—ah!—adore your enthusi—oh!—asm, but I don't…"

The weak protest broke through her burning desire. Her lips and eyes left his chest to meet his apologetic expression. Suddenly, she realized what she was doing, how she had all but tossed him underneath her and torn off his clothes, and she felt mortified. What was she thinking? What was she doing?

Raven dismounted him at once, backing across the mattress. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to control the raging storm in her head, preparing to shove it deep where it belonged. "I'm sorry," she said, her eyes watering. "This was…I…"

"What? No!"

Dominic sat up and caught her hand before it could leave his chest. His desperate grab preserved the peace between them. Sitting forward, he cradled her hand against his chest. Thunder raced beneath his skin, pounding against her touch.

"Raven," he said, stroking her hair behind her ear, forcing her to look at him. "I want to. Believe me. I just…I don't want it to be like last time, when you woke up and got scared. I…"

Raven blinked her eyes clear. Her desire flickered back to life. She let it build slowly this time, determined to control it. She would control it. For once in her life, her emotions would work for her, instead of the other way around. Slowly, she took his hand and placed it at the back of her neck. Her fingers guided his to a small metal tab hidden within the seam of her taut vestments. It was a zipper.

Locking her gaze in his, Raven leaned into him, letting go of his hand to grasp his face. The weight of his hand drew the zipper down to the small of her back. Her vestments rolled off her shoulders and down her arms, revealing ashen skin that longed to press against his.

In a hushed voice, Raven said, "I'm not scared anymore."

**To Be Continued**


	22. A Love Story, Part III

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

_A Love Story, Part III_

"My darling Rachel…"

Mists consumed the ivory walkways of Azarath. The gleaming haven, a wonder of architecture and magic hidden between dimensions, was made white and dark with the unnatural fog. She could hardly see the long bridge on which she walked. Her hands rose before her to guide her through the mist as she followed the soft whisper. "Hello?" she called. "Hello? Where are you?"

The whisper came again. "My darling Rachel…" It cut the empty mist, growing louder as she grew closer. The voice was female, and unmistakably sad. Never had she heard a creature sound so heartbroken. "My darling Rachel…" the whisper lamented.

She staggered across the bride, recognizing it at last. It was the archway that connected the grounds to the floating Temple of Azar, where she had lived as a child. But there were no people. There were no monks to greet her. The bridge was longer than she remembered, it seemed without end. She could only see the shadow of the Temple through the mists.

"My darling Rachel…" The whisper touched her. She felt compelled to follow. It beckoned her.

"Please, where are you? Who are you? Why did you bring me back?" she called. Azarath was forbidden to her. She had left so no demonic forces could follow her through the ether to find Azarath. She had left to save it.

At last, a shape emerged through the mists. She stopped before a figure obscured in a cloak and hood of pristine white. As she approached, the figure bade her to stop, and lifted the hood back to reveal the features of a young woman. Her shimmering black hair fell free of the hood to frame features cast with unbearable tragedy.

The woman's name left her lips in a gasp. "Arella." Her mother. Arella appeared just as she remembered on her last day in Azarath. After five years, the sight of the woman's face shook her to the core. "Arella, why am I here?"

Arella's brow crinkled with the weight of a terrible burden. "My darling Rachel," she murmured, "how you have suffered. And now your sufferings must grow. The end has begun."

"What end?" she insisted. Then her blood froze. "Him? No…no, I won't let that happen. It can't. I promised you that I wouldn't let him come. I won't."

Arella smiled the smile of the lost. "Be strong. You have garnered much strength since you left us. Much more strength than you realize, to fight his terrible reign."

She stamped her foot. "It won't come to that! He's never leaving his prison, Mother. Never!"

Her smile vanished. "But be warned. His defeat will carry a high price. Only the greatest sacrifice will stop him."

Desperate, she ran to Arella. "I'll do whatever it takes," she swore.

"The sacrifice is not yours to make. You are the Portal. He will come."

She threw her arms around Arella, desperate for the comfort she had been denied as a child. But where she touched her, Arella burst into flame. The fire spread to consume the cloaked woman. It burned red and impossibly hot, and crackled with laughter. She was forced to leap away lest the fire consume her as well.

Arella's smile peeled and bubbled in the heat. "My darling Rachel," she sighed, her last breath. Then, ashes.

She watched the fire flicker out, leaving behind no trace of her mother. Tears slicked her cheeks as she grasped at the mist. She fell to her knees, screaming, sobbing, unable to bear the weight of Arella's words.

You are the Portal.

He will come.

* * *

Raven awoke with a start. She sat up, choked for breath, and panicked at the unfamiliar room. It was several seconds of desperate breath before she remembered where she was. She untangled herself from the sheets and slowed her breathing, hoping that her heart would follow suit. Cold dampness muddied her eyes and cheeks. She brushed it away with the back of her hand.

The grandfather clock in the corner counted the seconds of a late hour with its tireless pendulum. Raven sat up, marveling at the stiffness that rippled throughout her body. A thousand twinges spurred her to look upon the slumbering sheaf beside her. If the afternoon and evening had made sore mess of her muscles, she could only imagine what it had done to Dominic. He slept as the dead, with his hand resting on her thigh beneath the sheets.

The sight made her smile. "I'm going to choose to take your unconsciousness as a compliment," she teased her comatose lover in a graveyard whisper.

Her innards gurgled in protest. She had ignored them since the previous morning, and emptied her body of use with the exertion of the rest of the day and most of the night. Even as her emotional thirst had at last been sated, a more conventional thirst arose from her dehydration, and joined hunger in pinching her stomach. Her bladder added to the mix with its own sloshing indignation.

Raven rubbed her bare, aching midriff. Gazing upon Dominic, she kissed his forehead lightly. "Azar help me if you wake up and think I abandoned you," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "I'm just leaving for a moment."

With great reluctance, Raven gathered her emotions back into their psychic bottle. It was surprisingly easy to rebuild her defenses. Perhaps she had simply exhausted her feelings. She rarely exercised them, after all. She locked them back under control and, loathe to do so, pulled her leg out from under Dominic's touch to leave the bed.

Donning his silk dressing robe, Raven set out into the hall, teleporting through the door so as not to wake him. The hem of the robe fluttered behind her ankles as she hurriedly found a bathroom among the fleet of doors in the hallway.

She stood in the bathroom without lights. Her demonic eyes could pierce any darkness, and she didn't want to draw any notice, should the unthinkable happen and Dominic's mother choose to return in the middle of the night. She eased the first of her body's needs, sighing in relief. Then she cupped her hands beneath the faucet and sated her thirst, and splashed water in her face.

She examined her dripping reflection in the mirror, and noted with mild surprise how well her surroundings suited her. The bathroom, like the rest of the mansion, was designed around a decidedly gothic aesthetic. The wallpaper was immaculate, but yellowed with age. Angels haunted the door frame in carvings, surrounded forever by wooden fire. Old brass polished to shine new comprised the fixtures.

The mirror showed Raven a place where she belonged. She could feel it. She liked it.

Drying her face, Raven decided to risk a trip downstairs to the kitchen. Her stomach would accept nothing less. She took to the halls again, floating above the floorboards to keep them from creaking. No moon pierced the stained glass of the grand hall. Its angel stood dark, as it had the night Raven had first come to the mansion.

Even without Dominic's touch, this place remained quiet in every sense. Raven adored it.

In the silence, Raven's mind wandered back to the hazy memory of her dream. The misty visage of Azarath made her shiver. She had never dreamt of her mother before. Arella had only called her Rachel once, when she was very young, and as a slip of the tongue more than anything else. "Rachel" was what Arella had first thought to name her daughter, before the monks had bestowed a more fitting name: Raven, the dark omen.

Raven shook her head. She had learned control. She distanced herself from her father in every way possible. Only through her could he pass from his extra-dimensional prison, and she would not allow it. Better still, she had found someone to protect her from his wrath.

As she glided down the steps, lost in thought, another soft whisper broke the silence. The voice made Raven stop at the bottom of the staircase. It spoke no language she understood, and could barely be heard above the sound of Raven's breathing. But it was there. It touched her, much like the whisper in her dream had. It beckoned her.

She followed its call, rounding the sprawling staircase. A small reading nook had been tucked next to the stairs in full view of the stained glass mosaic. There was a couch set before several bookcases that had been cut into the stone wall. Old volumes lined the shelves, intermingled with curios whose value Raven could only imagine.

The whisper had led Raven to the library of her wildest dreams. She skimmed the selection and found a priceless wealth of books. Many of them were first editions, bearing authorial names that made Raven's reading palate salivate. She would have read them at once, had the incomprehensible whisper not grown louder and more insistent.

Her hand moved according to the whisper, and fell upon the spine of a very old John Milton bound in leather.

She pulled it.

The book came halfway off the shelf and then stopped with a mechanical clicking. The bookcase next to her slid back into the wall, and then sidestepped, disappearing altogether.

Raven blinked in surprise at the hidden door's emergence. The whisper grew louder still, hissing in her ears. It made her step to the side to see beyond the hidden door.

And then Raven gasped and recoiled at the skulled face of Brother Blood.

* * *

Furious clicking kept Beast Boy and the buzzing television company in the lonely late hour of the Commons. The shapeshifter sat slouched on the couch, a video game controller lodged between his gloves. The controller clicked as his thumbs tested the stress limits of its joysticks. Only his thumbs showed any signs of life. He remained otherwise a fixture, his set scowl alight in the colors of the TV.

A light switch across the room flicked. White light overpowered the iridescent TV screen and pinched Beast Boy's eyes shut. He tested the air without turning around, and heard slippered footsteps shuffle across the floor. Grumbling, he let his eyes adjust, and then returned to his controller, pointedly ignoring the unwelcome intruder in the kitchen behind him.

"I see you are up late," Bushido said. He pulled the edges of his robe tight against the chill of the refrigerator as he rummaged through its shelves. "And upset," he called from inside the fridge. "Neither of these is conducive to a healthy lifestyle."

Beast Boy's scowl became a sneer. "What makes you think I'm upset?" he said, casting his snide voice over the top of the couch.

Bushido retrieved a glass and filled it with a tall drink of grapefruit juice. "For one thing, you're attempting to play CNN," he noted, and replaced the juice carton in the fridge.

Looking up, Beast Boy found an old man in a crisp suit reading at him about turmoil abroad. Glancing back at his controller, Beast Boy grumbled, "I thought it was some new import RPG. Isn't that my level going up in the corner of the screen?"

Arriving behind the couch, Bushido said, "Beast Boy, that is the current time."

"Oh." Beast Boy tossed aside his controller and crossed his arms. "Stupid game anyway. The game economy was broken, and the Middle East levels are hacked."

Bushido rounded the couch and sat next to Beast Boy. "It is important to settle your troubles before you end the day. Otherwise, your sleep will be fitful, and worse, you will start tomorrow already troubled." He took a long sip of juice, sighed, and propped his feet up on the coffee table, revealing slippers shaped like bear paws. "That is why I like something sweet before bed."

A derisive snort cleared Beast Boy's nose of the swordsman's scent. "I'm surprised you don't just assassinate your problems. Or can't inner peace pony up the down payment for a sword through trouble's neck?"

Smiling, Bushido said, "I don't kill all my problems. It would certainly be easier, though. But problems between a man and a woman are rarely so simple that a blade can make things better. Down that road lies only tragedy. And thespianism."

Beast Boy eyed him as Bushido took another drink. "Man and woman? This isn't a man-and-woman kind of problem. I mean, there is no problem. If Raven's happy jumping the first SuicideGuy she can find, then I'm happy for her. I'm buckets and buckets of happy for her!" he grumped.

"My mistake. I thought you might be jealous," Bushido said. Swirling his juice, he added, "Probably because you're exhibiting every textbook sign of jealousy imaginable."

Throwing Bushido a look of sidelong disgust, Beast Boy snapped, "Get a clue, Terminator. Raven and I have been friends for years. At least, I thought we were. And I was getting used to the idea that being friends with Raven was going to be like hugging a porcupine made of icicles. Whatever. Only now, it turns out she can be all ga-ga happy-pants with some other guy. And why? Why not me? But who cares, right?"

Bushido sipped. "Hmm. So you are jealous."

"Why not me too?" Beast Boy demanded, rounding on Bushido with curled claws. "We've saved each other's lives. She barely knows him. Why does Dom get a smile, and I get snarked at? I can't stand it! It's so unfair. So…"

"Human," Bushido said. He considered Beast Boy for a quiet moment, enduring the shapeshifter's glare without a word. Then, thoughtfully, he said, "You do not like me, do you?"

The question flustered Beast Boy. "I…well…"

"No. You do not." Bushido paused for a drink, smacking his lips. "It's all right. I don't care. But consider: you and I now live together. We fight side by side. I have made every effort to be polite, even nice, despite the constant barbs you sling at me."

"C'mon," Beast Boy said, squirming. "It's just a few harmless—"

"You do not like me," Bushido railroaded, "because of who I am. Of what I am. I am a warrior. I kill, and make no apologies for it. I am an assassin, and make no qualms of it. To me, assassination is a noble art, an honorable profession the way I practice it. You would be surprised to find how many of your great American leaders agree with me, considering how frequently they contracted my services. But because of this, you do not like me. You will never like me."

Beast Boy sagged. "…no. I guess not," he admitted.

Bushido nodded. "It is only natural. You are a creature of instinct. I hurt you, and therefore cannot be trusted. You are dictated wholly by your emotions. When you feel something, you act upon that feeling, to the exact opposite of the way someone as contemplative as Raven lives her life."

"I guess so," Beast Boy said. "So what?"

"So, because of what you are—a creature of feelings, anathema to her—Raven does not like you. She will never like you. She cannot, any more than you could ever like me," Bushido explained. "We must all act according to our respective natures."

The swordsman finished his juice under Beast Boy's look of disbelief. "Do you really think it's that simple?" Beast Boy asked.

"Most everything is, until we complicate things. But that, too, is our nature." Bushido stood with a refreshed sigh and straightened his robes. He bowed, and said, "Thank you for the company."

As Bushido walked to the kitchen, Beast Boy pushed his chest up and over the back of the couch. "Hey, Bushido? Why do you even care?" he asked.

Rinsing his glass, Bushido said, "As I said, I do not. I do, however, understand the nature of Raven's loneliness, as well as the loneliness of Raven's nature. And…" He hesitated, frowning through the wet refraction of his empty glass. "Well, perhaps I simply understand loneliness better than even I would care to admit." He set the glass in the sink. "Good night, Beast Boy."

Beast Boy watched him leave. As Bushido passed through the Commons' doors, Beast Boy blurted, "Hey, Ryuko?" His questioning tone gave Bushido pause and turn. Somberly, Beast Boy said, "Call me Gar, okay?"

Bushido nodded. "Rest well, Gar," he said, and turned out the lights.

Once more in the light of the television, Beast Boy sank back into the couch, burdened with Bushido's talk of natures. Channels flickered, surfed without consideration by a thumb wholly detached from his troubled mind.

* * *

Talons extended from Raven's hardening mind into her hands, growing black and sharp from the ends of her fists as she fluttered back on a trail of Dominic's long robe. An incantation sat poised on her tongue to rain fury down upon the intruder behind the bookcase. Should anything of him remain, Raven could question it later.

But as seconds crawled by without reaction, Raven's surprise settled. So too did her feet to the floor as she let her soul-talons dissipate. The robed Brother Blood did nothing and said nothing. Emptiness haunted the cavernous sockets of his silver skull mask. He seemed unconcerned about being discovered by a half-naked sorceress. Raven realized after another second's consideration that this was because he was not Brother Blood, but rather a coat rack in clever disguise as Brother Blood.

Relief and embarrassment flooded Raven in equal parts as she tiptoed toward the empty vestments. The golden helmet hung at a slight angle on its padded rack, skewing its empty glare at her. She brushed its flowing robe with her fingertip, scarcely believing what she had found, even as the smooth fabric tickled her touch.

The whisper that had led Raven to the hidden door spoke again, this time in a deafening hiss. She clapped her hands over her ears to no effect. Tears welled in her eyes as she doubled over, staggered by the overwhelming, incomprehensible words. She tilted into the empty robe, knocking its stand. The top-heavy vestments teetered and fell, clattering to the floor. The helmet slid away over polished hardwood as the voice died down.

At the back of the alcove sat a thick, tall pedestal cut from white stone. Like the architecture of the mansion, the pedestal was carved with angels, their faces scored with tears, their arms outstretched to hold aloft the platform of the pedestal. Resting atop, a propped book sat open and facing Raven. Its pages were tattered papyrus, brittle and cracked. Thin script glistened on each page with a dull red sheen.

Raven lifted the book, cradling its halves with tepid care. It was too dark, and her Sanskrit too rusty, to understand everything. But as she skimmed the page, she came across a word she recognized at once.

Portal.

Hands shaking, she lifted the book until its crease all but consumed her nose. Her whisper quivered as she read the sentence aloud. "The union of the Priest and the Portal shall bring about the beginning, His glorious reign. Hence will the world be as ash, from which will rise His kingdom of blood and fire, to rule…"

She turned the page. "…for all time," she finished breathlessly. Her chest seized as her eyes trailed from the words. The rest of the new page depicted a wood cut of an angel reaching from the darkness. Its hands stretched to the foreground, opening to her, framing the angel's otherworldly beauty. Its flowing, cadent hair billowed back behind the angel's four luminous eyes.

Raven gasped at the angel's four-tiered gaze. She dropped the book, letting it fall onto its rough binding at her feet. The whisper in the alcove shouted terribly, drawing her eyes back in. There, she found that the book had been propped on the hilt of a bone-white sword whose blade was sheathed in the pedestal itself. It was the Hand, the relic sword of the Church of Blood.

When her eyes fell upon the sword, the whisper ceased. Horror deafened her in its stead.

"What are you doing in there? Who are you?" an angry voice demanded.

Raven whirled from the alcove. A steel-haired woman draped in white robes rimmed in red stood in the entryway, finger thrust at Raven. Large, shadowy figures in blood red robes lurked behind the woman, outside the door. Raven's heart raced as she recognized the woman staring her down.

Mother Méhymn lowered her finger with a scowl as she in turn recognized the intruder. "You," she spat with disgust. Stepping forward, she gestured for the trio of red cloaks behind her. These three men were among the largest Raven had ever seen, and were likely part of the Mother's enforcement squad from the battle with the robots. "Take her!" Mother Méhymn bellowed.

Taking to the air, Raven jumped back in a swirl of oversized robe. She swept her hand through the air. A wave of soul-self pushed from her touch, expanding as it flew at the Mother and her squad as a battering ram-wave.

Barking a sharp word that Raven did not understand, Mother Méhymn swept her own hand at the soul-wave. A bracelet of white beads jangled at the Mother's wrist. At the Mother's touch, the wave dissolved into ethereal smoke, which billowed over her and her followers to no effect. The curt incantation trickled back through Raven's soul, chilling her with a kind of un-magic she had never before felt.

Raven flew higher. She felt the air ripple beneath her with more un-magic, which sucked the flight out of her. Desperate, she grasped at the railing of the balcony overlooking the grand hall. She pulled herself up and over, even as she heard the footsteps of the red cloaks thundering up the staircase to give chase.

She sprinted for the hallway. Already, she could feel her power returning. She just needed to reach a safe place long enough to create a portal that could return her to the Compound. And Dominic. She had to find him, had to keep him safe.

As she rounded into the hall, she ran full bore into Dominic's bare chest. She and Dominic bounced apart, both falling to the floor with startled gasps. He rose from the floor with a wince and tugged up the waist of his pajama pants. "Raven? What's wrong? When I woke—"

She sprang up with a burst of flight and grabbed his hand. "We have to run!" she cried. "Hurry!"

Dominic staggered behind her, completely lost. "Raven, what…?" He looked back and saw the burly trio of cloaks barrel onto the balcony. Immediately, Dominic's hand tightened in hers. His heels dug into the floor, jerking them both to a halt. Horror struck his face blank as he stared at the cloaks. "Oh, no…" he murmured.

Raven yanked on his arm. She couldn't make him budge. "Dominic, we have to go! The…"

She trailed off as she saw the cloaks beyond him slow their determined charge to a dead stop. Wide stares escaped their hoods at the sight of Dominic. Immediately, they fell to their knees, splaying themselves on the floor with reckless reverence.

"Please forgive us!" the lead cloak sobbed. His brethren joined him in mewling, "Forgive us! Forgive us!"

Their worshipful pleas struck Raven dumb. Her pulling ceased as she watched the cloaks proffer themselves before Dominic. She did not even see Mother Méhymn stride from the steps and approach them until the old matron snapped, "Brother Blood! What is the meaning of this?"

Raven followed the Mother's angered words to Dominic's remorseful features. His grasp loosened around hers, allowing her to slip free. She staggered back from him and struck the wall in a daze. "Raven, I... This isn't how I wanted you to find out," he said lamely.

"You're…" Raven gagged at the very notion. "…no. No!"

Mother Méhymn kicked the prostrated cloaks to their feet. "This foolishness has gone on long enough, Brother Blood. Restrain her."

Dominic watched Raven cower from him. His stomach clenched at the sight of her fear. "Mother…"

"Do it!" Mother Méhymn snapped.

Closing his eyes, Dominic shriveled with a long sigh. His eyelids rose to reveal twin points of arcane brilliance, which shone upon Raven through bottled tears. Reaching out, Dominic said, "Raven, please. Come with me, and I can explain everything. I promise."

Raven seized at his impending touch. She gathered her soul for a blast that would knock him through the wall. "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!" she cried, and thrust out her palm.

Nothing happened. Raven panicked, and grasped at her soul with her last shreds of control. It would not budge. Her soul settled in her body, cold all throughout her. She couldn't summon her soul-self. She couldn't manifest her will as magic. Everything demonic about her was frozen.

Dominic's hand closed gently around her wrist. Sorrow poured into her through his touch. "You're powerless now, Raven. Please don't try—"

Raven broke his grasp with a twist. She thrust her elbow into his eye, snapping his head aside and knocking him over. As he crumpled to the floor, she sprinted for the balcony, trying desperately to unlock her soul, or her flight, or the nexus inside of her.

The three cloaks spread out to stop her. They filled the mouth of the hallway with a wall of muscle and menace, their thuggish scowls cast in heavy shadow. Pure hate rang in their faces for the cow who had dared to strike the Brother Blood. "Stop, defiler!" the lead cloak bellowed.

Wood splintered as Raven tore a portrait from the wall in mid-run. She angled the frame's edge at chin height and drove it at the first cloak. He caught it easily, just as she had expected. Sliding under the portrait, Raven kicked the man hard in the side of his stomach, bypassing his strongest muscles to drive her foot up and under his ribs. He made a gargled, wheezing noise and staggered back.

The second man shoved him aside. Still under the portrait, Raven flipped it hard and fast, driving its canvas over the man's hood. The old material tore, leaving the frame ringed around his neck. Raven stepped back and yanked the frame, throwing him off balance. As he staggered forward, she jumped, shoving the top of her head into his nose. Hard impact and wet warmth spread across her scalp as he reeled back with a grunt.

Raven sprinted, her grasp on the frame trailing behind her. As the third man lunged for her, she dropped onto the long train of Dominic's robe around her. The polished hardwood let her slide right between his legs. The man she had choked with the frame crashed into the other man. Raven sprang to her feet and left them both in a tangled heap.

Bellowing with frustration, Mother Méhymn barreled at Raven, and lifted her clacking bracelet. Up close, Raven could see that the bracelet was actually a line of human teeth strung on sinewy cord. The bracelet glinted with another buildup of un-magic that made Raven's neck hairs quiver with dread.

Back-pedaling, Raven grasped the rail of the balcony and sprang onto her hands. She flipped away from the Mother's un-magic, into the open air. Arms wheeling, powers frozen, Raven fell and struck the wall next to the balcony. Her hands found the side edge of an old tapestry, which she grasped, white-knuckled, and rode down. Her hands burned raw with friction by the time she collapsed onto the floor. Her knees throbbed, but there was no time to hurt.

She rose and rand for the door unopposed. Where she could go, what she could do, she did not know. If her powers could return with distance from Dominic…

Dominic. She felt sickened and stung all at once to recall his name. His smile. It had all been a trick since the very first day. He simply wanted the Portal. But he would never have it. Raven would die before that happened.

The door waited for her, still open from Mother Méhymn's entrance. Raven ran with everything her legs had left. But she bounced off a shimmering wall of red ether that filled the doorway with the speed of a thought. The impact threw her to the ground, where she landed with a cry, dazed.

Leathery wings beat the air above her, stirring her hair as she cleared the pain from her clouded thoughts. Dominic hung above her on draconic wings that spread from his shoulders. The soul-wings set him gently before her, and dissipated as he offered her his hand. His eyes burned with power.

In a quiet, pleading voice, Dominic said, "Raven, please don't do this."

"Get away from me!" Raven screamed. She launched herself at him. Her mind pierced its haze with a single thought: to wrap her hands around his throat, to squeeze until her powers returned and his came to a choking end, to hurt him ten thousand times worse than he had hurt her.

Dominic lowered his head. He did nothing to defend himself, which jarred Raven with a moment's hesitation. It was all the opening Mother Méhymn needed to strike from the stairs with a wave of un-magic that swallowed Raven into a black void.

* * *

Beast Boy emptied his spoon, peeling it from his mouth. He swallowed. He stared. "Nope. Still troubled," he gurgled.

He dug his spoon into the carton, only to find glazed emptiness at the bottom. The carton tilted onto its side and rolled off the counter as he pulled his hand out. Mechanically, he rose and found a new carton from one of the freezers, and took it back to his stool at the counter.

The carton cover gave way, revealing three stripes of flavor. Beast Boy swept his spoon across all three and deposited the spoonful in his mouth. He swallowed. He stared. "Nope. Still troubled," he gurgled.

Light flooded the Commons with a _click_ from the doorway. Beast Boy hissed and mashed his eyes shut as he heard Tek say, "Oh! Sorry, Gar, I didn't…know… What on earth are you doing?"

Slumber-adorned in an oversized shirt that left her thighs bare, Tek stood in the doorway, lost for words at the sight of Beast Boy hunched over the kitchen counter. Empty cartons of ice cream littered the countertop and floor. Melted flavors intermingled in pools everywhere. A runny ring surrounded Beast Boy's mouth, which cradled a spoon with its grimace.

Tek's presence awakened Beast Boy to the mess around him. Taking the spoon from his mouth, he said, "Trying to un-trouble myself." He counted the empty cartons, and added, "Also, I might be diabetic by now. Not really sure."

She minced around the cartons and pulled out the stool next to him. "I came down for a midnight snack. Guess it's good that I got here when I did, or the ice cream would be gone," she said with a smile, and took the spoon from his hand to help him with his carton of Neapolitan.

"And also th—" He hiccupped, and gagged on a surge of creamy bile that jumped up his throat. Forcing it down, he said, "And also the diabetes."

"And that," Tek said, laughing around a scoop of chocolate. As she swallowed, the edges of her smile turned forlorn. She leaned on the counter, her elbow in a puddle of Rocky Road, and said, "Are you okay? You really scared me this afternoon, goofing on Raven like you did."

Something worse than the bile surged up in Beast Boy. He grabbed the spoon from Tek. "I don't wanna talk about it," he said, and thrust more ice cream in his mouth to force the surge back down.

Tek nodded. "Okay. Sorry," she said.

They sat for a spell, trading the spoon back and forth in silence. Tek emptied the carton of chocolate as Beast Boy finished the other flavors. He could smell her continuing hesitance above the nauseating reek of ice cream. Tek always smelled of nervousness, especially when she was around someone else. Her scent never went without its sweaty tinge of uncertainty. It was especially strong at the moment, as though he could smell a question building inside of her.

He wasn't disappointed. "Gar? Can I ask you something?" Tek blurted, setting aside the spoon.

"Sure," he grunted.

Her hands fell into her lap, anxiously curling against the smooth skin of her legs. Unable to meet his gaze, she found her own reflection in a pool of Butterscotch Ripple, and watched herself ask, "How do you know when you're in love?"

Beast Boy blinked. He wasn't disappointed, but he was certainly surprised. "Huh? How do you…?"

She nodded. "Yeah. How do you know? I've mostly only seen it on TV. And I know it doesn't work like it does on TV, or else everyone would just be married to some fat guy who screws up and apologizes every twenty-two minutes. You guys are the only friends I have, and you and Tara were the only couple I know that really ever worked. You loved her, didn't you?"

Tek's gentle, earnest question punched Beast Boy in the stomach. "Tara wasn't real. I mean, what she said… How she said she… The way she… She didn't… I don't…" He slid off his stool, staggering backward. "I don't really want to...y'know?"

Tek nodded glumly. She toyed with the spoon in the empty carton, sighing. "Sorry, Gar. Forget I asked. Of course you don't want to talk about her. That was stupid. I'm sorry. I just… I think I…"

He watched her bite her lip and cringe. Her sudden misery eased the churning in his stomach. Slinking back to his stool, he watched her twiddle the spoon. Her expression reminded him of one he had seen a lifetime ago, staring back at him from a mirror as he rehearsed lines. "You…?" he asked.

"I don't know," Tek mumbled at the spoon. "Maybe?"

He wilted at a distressing thought. "…it's not me, is it?"

"What? No!" she cried. Then she realized the volume of her voice, and blushed, and babbled, "I mean, not that I never would, you know? But no, it's not you, Gar."

Beast Boy's brimming smile cooled her blush. "Hey, it's your loss. I can eat four gallons of ice cream and still keep my fab abs," he said, and lifted his shirt to show her the washboard proof.

She laughed. "You're all kinds of sexy, Gar. But it's not you. It's…" Her smile dimmed with thought. "It doesn't matter. I know he never would… Heck, how could he, when I'm not sure? I don't even know if the feeling's real. I sure don't want to turn everything upside-down for nothing but a silly little crush."

He rubbed her shoulder, summoning a ghost of a smile back to her face. "It's not really an all-or-nothing gig, Armor All. It's not even a choice. Either it's there or it's not. And if it is, all you can do is hope the other guy's got it just as bad as you do."

"But how do you even know? How is either person supposed to know?" Tek asked. "I don't even know what to watch for, or even what signals to throw out. The only other girl around here is Raven, and I can't copy her. I'm just not that sarcastic."

"Trust the expert. Nature has a way of lining these things up," Beast Boy told her, waggling his pointed ears. "The best way to tell it's working is when you hear yourself spewing verbal diarrhea, but you can't seem to stop."

"In that case, you must be crazy about Raven," Tek said. Her laugh filled the Commons alone. Her mirth wilted at his sobering expression. "Ergh. Or maybe I'm crazy about you, considering how far I just jammed my foot in my mouth. Sorry."

He stared past her, out to the dark patio beyond the new windows. "Was I really that bad?" he asked.

Tek quirked the corner of her mouth. "You did ask Dominic about their sex life in front of everybody. I'm a little surprised Raven didn't pop your head like a big, meaty balloon with her mind. She was really upset, Gar. I think she likes Dominic a lot."

Humor tweaked his piteous expression. "I thought you couldn't tell," he pointed out.

"Not with ordinary people. Raven's easy, though," Tek said. "She doesn't treat Dominic like she treats us. She's actually nice to him."

The afternoon's resentment joined in Beast Boy's churning innards. He frowned. "Doesn't that ever make you mad? That she treats us like garbage, and saves her warm fuzzies for some stranger?" he grumbled.

Tek shrugged. "Sometimes. But mostly, I just feel bad for her."

"Bad for her?"

"I know Raven doesn't like me," she said. "She told me as much. But she really likes you, and Vic, and Kory. Otherwise she wouldn't live with you all. Raven wouldn't do something she didn't really want to. She's not like that."

The edge of Beast Boy's eye crinkled in disbelief. "And that's why you feel sorry for her?"

Lowering her head, Tek said, "How awful would it be if the only way you could tell someone you liked them was to be sarcastic and mean about it? I don't think Raven knows how to be nice. I think snarkiness is all she has. That's really sad."

Beast Boy thought back to his and Cyborg's trek through the vast, cold interior of Raven's mind. There, they had met exactly one instance of cheeriness in the otherwise bleak wastes. Beast Boy had held onto the notion that enough humor, enough friendship and fun, could bring Raven's inner pinkness to the surface. But maybe the real miracle was that he had seen it at all. Maybe that aspect of Raven was the exception that proved Tek's grim rule.

He managed a weak smile that almost covered his misery. "You're too nice for your own good, you know that?" he said to Tek.

She smirked. "I'm a delightfully quirky, medicated, borderline-schizophrenic amnesiac who has a tendency to wig out with super-weapons. It tends to make you see everybody else's faults a little differently." Her chuckle turned into a ponderous yawn that drove her to her feet. "Okay. I'm full of ice cream and out of angst. Back to bed. Thanks for listening to my verbal diarrhea, Gar."

"No problem," Beast Boy said, shifting his slight smile to the other side of his face. "At least one of us should get some sleep tonight."

Tek padded to the door. She paused, grasping the frame as she turned around. "Hey, Gar?" she said, interrupting him from his half-hearted stacking of cartons. "Maybe I don't know anything. Maybe. But I…I think Tara loved you a lot. I never said it, but I'm sorry things worked out the way they did."

Beast Boy felt his eyes grow hot. He hooded them in faux-disinterest, and said in a husky voice, "Thanks."

She nodded, and backed through the door. "Night," she called softly.

Beast Boy stared at the syrupy mess on the counter, lost in thought and memory. He thought about the way Dominic looked at Raven, and wondered if he had looked the same way at Terra. He hoped so. Just like he hoped his nose had been wrong about Dominic, for Raven's sake.

* * *

Raven sat in a dark, dank chamber, bound to a folding metal chair with heavy chains that wrung her bare skin. A lone candle burned atop a small table beside her. Its flame threw pitiful light into the oppressive pitch, barely reaching the walls of rough stone surrounding her. She thought it might be cold in the cave, but it was hard to tell. The chilling paralysis of her soul made it difficult to assign blame for the goose bumps puckering her flesh.

Her head throbbed, partly for the lump she felt growing from the back of her skull. Her torrential emotions rattled inside her. She meditated as best she could, ensconcing her wayward emotions in a shaky bubble of peace. It would be vital for her to keep a level head if she was going to get out of this. She needed to keep calm…

…_until I find Dominic and tear him in half the long way._

She quashed her father's influence, screwing her face with determination. She couldn't afford to feel. Feelings would only slow her down. Feelings had gotten her chained to a chair in only an open robe in the first place. She couldn't trust her feelings anymore.

_This has to be a mistake. Dominic can't be part of this._

Tears pricked her eyes. She mashed them shut, hissing, straining against her chains. The metal bonds bit her to the bone. She grasped the pain and used it to drown out everything else in her head, focusing until all that remained was the ache all throughout her body. Then she sagged back into her seat, emptied, panting.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to get out of those chains. Not unless you have a double-jointed knack I don't know about." Dominic's voice emerged from the sightless depths before her, strangely muffled. The candlelight reached him as he stepped forward, walking toward her with crisp steps that clicked and echoed. He wore his Blood vestments, including the helmet and skull mask.

Raven's face twisted. Her shout clogged her throat, emerging as a hoarse snarl. "Where am I?"

His green eyes glistened in the candlelight, which danced in the silver of his mask. "There's a series of caverns beneath the mansion. You're in one of the ancillary chambers right now. They're actually pretty handy for conducting—"

"Let me go. Right. Now." Raven's throat burned with baritone fury. "Or so help me, I'll bring this place down onto your head and bury you alive."

His voice dipped. "We both know you can't do anything like that right now," he murmured.

Desperately she grasped at her soul to manifest it and thrust it through his chest. One broken heart deserved another. But the ether remained frozen inside of her, trapped in her physical being. "What did you do to me?" she demanded.

He stood, contrite, before her chair. In all else, Brother Blood had appeared a bold, posturing figure of authority. Now he slouched in shame. "You spent your whole life learning to physically manipulate your surroundings. I don't usually have your raw power, so I focused on control. I reached through your ajna chakra, here…" He tried touching the jewel that capped Raven's forehead. She twisted violently from his touch, startling his hand back.

"Why?" she croaked.

"By binding your soul to your body, I could—"

"Why?" she snapped tearfully, burning him with a glare. "Why do all of this?"

The skull mask tilted forward, carrying his gaze to the ground. "I am the Brother Blood," he stated, as if that were answer enough. "It is my duty to fulfill the foretelling of His book and serve toward His glorious return to our realm." The words marched through his mask in monotone.

Sorrow spilled from her glare. Her lips twisted with a sneer. With nowhere to go, the emotional backlash of her anger struck her precious control, cracking the bubble of peace. "This whole time you were just waiting to get your hands on the Portal. You're nothing but Trigon's sick puppet. Another doom cultist who has no idea what he's trying to unleash. You bastard…"

"It wasn't like that," he said weakly.

"Was it good for you?" she snarled. Her bubble burst, spilling chaos all through her thoughts. "Did you lie there afterward, watching me sleep, knowing what you would make me do after you were done with your perverted little mind game? How far did you reach into my head to twist around my emotions? Murder my inhibition, inflate my lust?"

He stiffened, his fists curling at his sides. "I never tampered with your mind," he bristled, stepping at her. "Before today, I never touched your mind! You were the one who pushed her emotions at me! You're the one who dragged me into bed!"

"So sayeth Brother Blood," she jeered, tilting forward to match his glare with hers.

He straightened in a storm of robes. The mask gave a metallic screech as he tore it from his helmet, revealing furious features that opened to roar, "I never asked for this!" He slammed the mask onto the table, making its candle dance precariously, sputtering the light in the cavern.

Raven watched in breathless silence as Dominic knocked the helmet from his head. It bounced to the floor, forgotten. Dominic clutched his matted hair and doubled over with an inner war that thundered in Raven's ethereal ears. Seething tears cut his cheeks.

"Do you think I wanted to be born like this?" he demanded. "A…A…A freak? A monster!" Scarlet claws stretched around his hands, growing in tandem with his the volume of his voice. Leathery wings unfurled from the ether at his back. "I hate being this thing! You think I had a choice?"

"I know you did!" she shouted. "Whatever you think you go through, I go through a hundred times worse! So don't talk to me about what you are, Blood. I live every section of every day with a real monster in my head."

His eyes flashed. The entire cave shook as he grasped his head and bellowed, "So do I!"

Raven froze. "What?"

Dominic collapsed onto his knees in a pool of his own robes. His fingers kneaded his fiery hair, as though something inside threatened to escape. "The Church raised me, Raven. They found me as a child, and they groomed me from moment one to be His hand on Earth. They bonded my mind and soul to Him, just like you."

His face twisted, and he snarled, "Only, Azarath didn't come for me. No. I didn't get the wisdom of monks, or extra-dimensional sanctuary. I got a cult devoted to the most evil being in existence. I've had a monster screaming in my thoughts every second of every day! I can't shut him out! I can't escape him!" he screamed. "Not until…"

His cry trailed off as he looked up at Raven. His hands stilled, falling to his sides. "Not until I met you. Until I touched you. When…When I touch you, he can't reach me. It's just me…and you. He can't reach me when I'm with you."

The desperation behind his murmur howled deafeningly in Raven's empathy. His hand reached out for her, not quite daring to brush her bare leg. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he pulled his hand and clutched it to his chest. "He's so loud, Raven," he moaned. "He's so loud."

Raven's scowl remained. But her shaking voice dropped in a whisper. "I know," she said.

"I did the best I could. I took this monstrous Church and I tried to do something good with it. I tried to help people, to help make up for…what I have to do," he said into his hands. "God, I don't want to. I don't. I don't."

His desperation swam in her head, softening her scowl. She leaned forward as far as the chains would allow, and said, "You don't have to, Dominic. You can fight him. I've fought him my whole life. We can fight him together. He can't touch us when we're together."

Dominic moaned laughingly. "Raven, the stillness isn't our defiance. Don't you see?"

"We can fight him!" Raven insisted shrilly.

"I tried!" he roared, snapping her back against her chair with the force of his shout. "When…" He choked, and grasped at the ornate clasp of his cloak. It snapped open, dropping the heavy cloth from his shoulders. "Last year, I couldn't take it anymore. The Church…everything… I ran. I ran all the way across the country, and I wasn't ever going to stop. I wouldn't listen to Mother. I wouldn't obey Trigon. I'd just run until…I don't know."

His eyes loped into memory, dwindling into an imagined distance. A miniscule smile parted his lips. "And then I saw you. I found you. I was…drawn to you. And the first time we touched, I felt that…stillness. The beautiful quiet. You," he murmured. Tears returned to his eyes, washing away his smile. "That's when I knew."

"Knew what? I don't understand," Raven insisted.

"I didn't find you by accident. It was His will. He wanted me to find you," Dominic said. "Don't you see, Raven? Finding each other, being at peace in each other… He orchestrated it all. He wants us to be together. Even when I ran, He led me right along the path He always meant for me to walk. You aren't my sanctuary, Raven. You're my reward. And I'm yours."

A shiver radiated from Raven's soul to rattle her chains. She shook her head, and said, "No. There is no path, Dominic. Trigon just wants you to believe that. But it doesn't have to be like that."

"It's fate," he said.

"It is not!" Raven shouted. Her voice rose, trying to capture his fallen eyes. "Let me go. Come back with me. My friends can protect us from the Church. I can teach you to bar Trigon from your thoughts. Your control is amazing, better than mine! You can do it! We can do it! We can be together."

When his eyes met hers, she felt a despondent chill run through her, colder than anything she had ever felt. "He would take it away," Dominic muttered. "He would take away the stillness and replace it with hate. He would make me hate you every time I touched you. Every moment we were together. I couldn't… I can't survive that, Raven. I can't do it. He would make me hate you. I can't…"

"Dominic, no!" cried Raven.

The last of his hope died, leaving his eyes ugly discs of crumbled jade that dropped to the floor. As he rose, he gathered his cloak around his shoulders. His fingers numbly clasped the crimson garb to his neck.

Raven rocked her chair uselessly, and sobbed, "No! Dominic, if you make me do this, I'll never forgive you. You'll make me hate you. Please don't do that. Don't take away the way I feel for you. Don't do this, please!"

"I know," Dominic said. He collected his helmet, and held it before him, examining the coil of its horns in the candlelight. "You'll hate me forever. But he'll let us serve by his side. He'll let me keep the way I feel about you. That's all I have left…"

As he lifted the helmet to his head, Raven panicked. She watched him disappear behind his vestments. "Wait!" she cried. Her voice stopped the helmet over his head. He looked to her as she begged him, "Please, can I…" Her eyes closed, loosing two more tears. Her last tears. Calming, she said, "Can I have one last kiss? From Dominic. Not Brother Blood."

Dominic paused. A fraction of the light trickled into his eyes as he lowered the helmet to his side. Leaning down, he cupped her cheek. She trembled as he brought his lips to hers. Tenderly he kissed her, savoring his last taste of what he had waited for his whole life.

Tragically she kissed him, her eyes shut tight. Her body yearned for his touch, shaking with need, aching for more, a lifetime more. But her mind waited, watching her soul. In the throes of their kiss, for the briefest instance, Dominic's concentration faltered.

Every ounce of willpower Raven possessed dove through the crack in his concentration. She shattered his control with the ethereal force of a jackhammer, knocking him from her lips as though he had been punched. Raven threw her head back and screamed into the universe, throwing her voice and thoughts and fears into the void behind a single word: "HELP!"

She was so focused on the cry, so addled by her own emotions, that Dominic overpowered her at once. His control froze her abilities behind a prison of her own soul once more, silencing all but her voice. He rubbed his mouth, glaring in surprise at the outburst. "What…?"

Raven's head lolled, but her glare found his. "We make our own fate," she told him darkly. "Mine is to stop Trigon no matter what. I'll fight him with my last breath. I'll stop him."

Dominic sobered with a long, shallow breath. He placed the helmet over his head, and said, "I wish I could believe that, Raven. I do. But you can't stop fate. No one heard that. No one is coming to rescue you." Quietly, he said, "Or me."

The darkness split for the ardent approach of a white cloak festooned in red. Mother Méhymn approached the captive with an infuriated glint in her eye. She threw back her hood and aimed her look at the barefaced boy in robes. "What is this? I thought I heard something," the Mother snapped.

He bowed his head, hesitating. When he looked back at Raven, he caught sight of his mask on the table, and replaced it over his solemn features. "Nothing, Mother. I was simply…preparing the Portal," Brother Blood said, his voice muffled and echoed by his skulled countenance.

The Mother's reproachful look chased him a step back from Raven. Mother Méhymn stepped before their prisoner and bent to examine her. Raven's glower did nothing to the grim, reserved glee set deep in the Mother's lined face. "We have indulged your foolishness long enough. It is time, Brother Blood."

"Yes, Mother," Brother Blood said with a deep nod.

Smile gleaming in the candlelight, the Mother said in reverence, "The union of His Priest and His Portal shall free him of His Prison. Today, at first light of dawn, you will be wed in blood. You shall free Him."

"Yes, Mother."

Mother Méhymn's face hardened as it fell back to Raven. The sorceress quaked with rage beneath the Mother's dismissive look. "Bring her. We must make her ready," the Mother said.

Brother Blood turned back to Raven. He found her glare more cutting than the sharpest blade. But he lifted his hand in silent command, filling her with his will.

Raven's soul-self poured up from her skin, enveloping her whole. Every part of her fell beneath the cool black ether under Blood's control. Only her bejeweled chakra and her burning white eyes broke the unnatural blackness, which severed her bonds at his command. Forced by the strength of her own soul-self, Raven stood stiffly from the chair, letting the chains slide to her feet.

Blood bid her to step forward. He made her follow, leading her from the cavern to mete her destiny. "Yes, Mother," he said hollowly.

**To Be Continued**


	23. A Love Story, Part IV

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

_A Love Story, Part IV_

Cyborg followed his booming yawn into the Commons. He walked through his own morning breath, blinking the static out of his eye to gaze out the dark windows. A sprawling stretch worked some of the post-maintenance-cycle stiffness out of his shoulders. His joints creaked as the fresh lubricants worked between them.

"Morning report," he yawned at his arm.

His vision came alive with an overlaid projection of the Compound's status. Security notes, repair schedules, itineraries, police reports, and Alert updates swam in his eyes as they fell upon the kitchen's blue-circuited coffee maker. One push of the machine's button, and a smack to the side of its casing, made the machine gurgle to life. It vomited a putrid brown concoction into his mug by the time the morning report left his vision.

Armed with caffeine that would destroy the stomach of a lesser man, Cyborg staggered over to the fridge. His maintenance cycle had pulled the entire digested picnic out of him, leaving him hungry for breakfast.

He pulled the fridge door open and reached blindly for the milk. His hand came back instead with a moody green penguin with bags under its eyes.

The penguin dangled by the blubbery scruff of its neck at Cyborg's eye level. "What did I tell you about sleeping in the fridge? You're getting penguin-stink all over our food. I'm really gonna eat you this time, Salad Head," Cyborg told him.

Beast Boy emerged from the penguin's shape. His uniform was rumpled and stained with colorful blotches. Dark rings remained beneath his eyes. "Go ahead," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "Let me know what you wanna eat. Just don't expect it to taste any good."

"You okay?" Cyborg set him on the floor. When Beast Boy began to crumple, Cyborg caught him by his scruff again and kept him on his feet. "You look like hell. And you smell like…ice cream?" Cyborg noted with a sniff.

Waving protest chased Cyborg's hand from Beast Boy's neck. The shapeshifter braced himself against the counter with a miserable grunt. "Couldn't sleep. Then sugar crash. Brain won't stop doing that…thing…noisy…stuff."

"You mean 'thinking?'" Cyborg asked wryly.

"Ungh," Beast Boy said with a nod. "I've been up all night doing that. Finally got so tired that I started working my way through the animal alphabet trying to find one that would go to sleep. But I got stuck trying to think of a 'Q' one, so…"

Cyborg sipped coffee through his sympathetic smile. "Sounds like guilt to me. You were a pretty sweet asshole yesterday."

"Yeah, yeah," Beast Boy said with another wave. "I've already had the talk. Actually, I've had two talks. Now all I need is to call up your holographic blonde bimbo so she can jam some wisdom in my ear. That'll complete the Titans Compound Action Advice set."

"'Cept for Raven," Cyborg pointed out. "Course, she'll probably just turn you inside out, or rewire your brain so you puke whenever you see the color purple. She's pretty touchy when it comes to Dominic, y'know."

Beast Boy sighed and sagged against the countertop. "Vic, I know what I smelled. I mean, I don't know-know," he said, and tapped his head. Then he tapped his chest, and said, "But I know. There's something about Dominic that isn't right. He's…creepy."

The counter creaked as Cyborg leaned next to him. Nursing his mug, Cyborg said, "You used to say the same thing about Raven."

"Raven is creepy," Beast Boy asserted. "But she's honest about it. And you can always tell that she's creepy. This Dominic guy, he's tricky about it. He smells creepy like Raven, but he doesn't look like it. And he's got creepy Raven all gaga, acting not-creepy and dressing up. That's uber-creepy."

Cyborg mulled over Beast Boy's inane rambling. Then he said, "Gar, you remember what you said to me after we got out of Raven's head?"

"I say lots of things. Most of them brilliant. I can't remember everything," Beast Boy said with a shrug. Then he slapped his forehead, and exclaimed, "Dude! Quail! Duh."

"You told me, 'I knew Raven could smile. I knew she thought I was funny. I'm gonna get her to smile again, no sweat.' Remember?"

He shrugged again. "Sounds like me. So?"

"So," said Cyborg, "Dominic makes her smile. We don't see it, but we know it. Isn't that good enough?"

Beast Boy sulked for an answer. The way Cyborg put it made him sound like a self-centered, needy jerk. Which was beside the point. If only he could describe the way Dominic smelled. There weren't words for it. The pale Don Juan smelled unlike anyone or anything Beast Boy had ever encountered.

…save for one. Raven smelled similarly. Their scents were surprisingly similar. But Raven was a demi-human from another dimension. She was supposed to smell different. Pretty-boys from California weren't supposed to smell like anything except surf and cilantro. Dominic was wrong. He was up to something. He was tricking Raven. How else could Raven like Dominic better than him? He…

_help_

Beast Boy jolted off the counter, his eyes wide. The breath he'd drawn to disagree with Cyborg burned in his chest as he held it, listening. Whatever it had been, it could barely be called a whisper, more a ghost of a sound than anything else. It had passed too quickly to be sure he had heard anything.

But his entire body buzzed with unadulterated fear. It flashed behind his eyes like fireworks, and prickled his nerves until every inch of his skin itched with the thought of danger. Not his. And not here. But he could feel it nonetheless. He had to do something. He had to find it.

Cyborg recoiled from Beast Boy's sudden agitation. "Gar? What's the matter? Are you okay?"

Beast Boy strained his ears to the limit. Urban din poured into his head. Every noise for miles and miles around, which he had fought to filter from his conscious thoughts, filled him at once. The cacophony of Cyborg's inner workings joined in: zapping capacitors, whirring servos, wet breath, clocklike heart, worried voice. But nowhere in the chaos could he find the whisper. He only had a vague idea of whence it came.

Ignoring Cyborg's outcry, Beast Boy sprinted for the Commons' windows. His hands fell to the floor as hooves, and his head flattened and grew into that of a longhorn bull. With a snort, the Beast Bull slammed through the armored window, smashing the webbed pane out of its frame. In mid-leap, the bull shrank into the wings of a peregrine falcon and beat the sky.

Cyborg rushed to the broken window and shouted at the tail feathers disappearing into the dark morning sky. "What the hell is wrong with you? Where are you going?" When even Cyborg's eyes lost sight of his friend, he lowered his fist and gripped the empty pane. "And why does everybody hate my windows so much?" he groused under his breath.

* * *

A scarlet gown of lace and silk hung over Raven. She stood in the mansion's parlor, her arms frozen at her sides, her chin aloft, her eyes as unblinking stars. Impossible darkness covered her skin, emanating cold from its smooth, glassy surface. She did not move.

Dozens of cloaked attendants sewed the dress in place around her, and swathed her in relics made from ancient gold polished to shine. Their touch never lingered long on her soul-skin, lest the cold burn them. They worked fervently, perfectly, eager to at last fulfill the tenants of their faith.

Brother Blood sat in a lavish chair opposite Raven and her attendants. He watched the gown take shape over Raven with sunken interest the color of old jade. Whatever his reaction, his mask hid it. Like Raven, he had not moved since the fitting had begun.

When the last piece of her gown was in place, the attendants produced the last piece. It was a headdress with a gauzy red veil. The piece had been crafted to resemble a braid of bougainvillea vine in blossom.

As the attendants lifted the flowered crown, Brother Blood stood, and commanded, "Hold. Give us a moment, please."

Bowing, the attendants left the parlor and closed its doors. Blood circled his uncrowned bride with an appraising eye.

He had seen the gown only in etchings and wood carvings from the Church's oldest books. This was likely the first time in history the dress had existed as anything but a picture in His Word. The dress clung to Raven's curve and poured from her hips, draping to her ankles with shimmering finery. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

Raven, bedecked and silent, reawakened the ache in Blood's chest. He took up the headdress from the table and held it between them. His gloved fingers kneaded between the silken blossoms of the headdress as he said, "You look amazing."

She spoke no reply. Her glistening form had no mouth, just a pair of eyes that burned white from the blackness.

He bowed his head. "Please don't say that," he murmured. "This isn't what I wanted. I never wanted to force anything between us. The Mother, she…"

He paused. His fingers tightened around the headdress. "That isn't fair," he said darkly. The eyes of his silver skull rose and narrowed into the twin stars of her face. "This was never about Him. I mean, what I felt…feel for you, it isn't about Him. My feelings are my own. I only want to protect…"

Her unnatural gaze passed straight through him. Stricken, Blood stepped back with a gasp. "You can't mean that," he insisted. "Everything I'm doing is for us! Don't you see?"

He shook his head. "No. The Church will never stop, Raven. Their benevolence has only been a product of my presence. And they only continue to follow me so long as I continue to lead them to their Lord. If I turned from them, they would decry me. They would kill me, and then you."

The sockets of his mask darkened as he bowed his head again. "Don't say that! This is inevitable. He is ageless. Even if we managed to defy him, even if, somehow, we died of old age before anything else, He would simply sire another Portal and choose another Priest. He will return. And for our defiance, he would twist our hearts with hate."

"And I don't ever want to hate you. I…"

He reached up to cup her cheek. The instant he touched her, his hand leapt away, and he yelped. Steam trailed from the tips of his glove. He staggered back and clutched his hand. The headdress fell from his grasp and splayed across his boots.

"You have no idea!" he shouted. "You've only lived with whispers! I've heard His voice. His true voice! It burns and it quakes, and it never stops! He never stops! If you knew anything about him, you wouldn't…

"No! This is our only chance, Raven. This is the only happiness I'll ever know. It's awful, and it's unfair, but this is it. I won't throw it away just so I can spit in the face of the apocalypse before it swallows me. I won't! It's not fair!"

Blood heaved. He trembled with rage, squared against her stare. As the seconds passed, his breathing slowed. His shoulders sagged beneath his cloak. His fists unfurled, and his silver mask grew hollow. His shout dwindled into a hoarse whisper. "I wish I had your hope, Raven."

The parlor door opened. Mother Méhymn barged in, sweeping back her hood. Her features sharpened. "The hour draws near, Brother Blood. Has the Portal been prepared?"

Blood bowed his head, masking his sigh. He collected the headdress from the floor. "She is ready, Mother," he said.

"Good. Bring her quickly," the Mother snapped. Her glare lingered on the back of Blood's helmet. Then she swirled from the room, billowing with haste.

Through the doors, Blood saw Raven's attendants standing in wait, joined by an honor guard of his fiercest retainers. Blood lifted the headdress to Raven's head, wreathing her in silk flowers. The veil did little to blunt her arcane stare. He paused the gauzy material halfway down to brush her soul-skinned cheek. The burning cold didn't chase him back this time.

"Maybe if I'd lived your life, I would believe you," he murmured. Steam drifted from his glove as he drew the veil over her face. "But if you had lived mine, you would know better. I won't lose you for a hopeless fight. I hope you can understand that."

At his silent behest, the crimson bride rose into the air, her bare black feet hovering inches above the floor. She floated in Brother Blood's wake as he strode into the hall. The attendants and retainers parted for them like a cloaked red sea, and then fell into step behind him. Their hoods were bowed in awe.

The procession descended the stairs of the grand hall to end the old world and begin the new.

In His glorious name, our Blood.

Amen.

* * *

After nearly an hour of flying, Beast Boy felt like a fool. The premonition that had spurred him through the Compound's window had long since faded. The memory of desperation and direction he'd associated with it began to feel imagined. He flapped his wings and wondered how he would explain his defenestrating egress to Cyborg when he himself wasn't sure.

An architected forest rolled beneath his flight. He had reached the immaculately manicured suburbs of the wealthiest. Jump City's richest and famous lived below, their lavish lifestyles personified by the remote mansions they had constructed. Here, everything looked perfect, painfully so. No one here needed help. And if they did, they certainly couldn't whisper it from across town.

Where had that call come from? Why had it compelled him so? And why now, so far from everything, was he just realizing how ludicrous his flight had been? Cyborg would kill him for barging through his precious window. Or worse, he would make Beast Boy fix it!

Beast Boy banked hard, cutting the cool morning air above an especially grandiose estate. Maybe he could think of a good excuse on the way home. A melancholy sigh whistled through his beak.

Then he stopped.

Or rather, he circled, and tasted the air. His tiny sinuses filled with a world of scents that a falcon never should have been able to detect. But then, his human nose wasn't meant to be so sensitive, either.

He tasted the air and sensed a world different than the one his avian eyes gleaned from the dark. Trees, flowers, grass, all manner of pollen gave the wind a wooded smell. The scents of squirrels and rabbits rose up from distant underbrush, making his talons flex with hunger. City smells wafted faintly between. And…_her_.

He recognized the scent at once. It filled his lungs, and then his mind. That urgent fear he had felt rushed back to him from the fuzzy recesses of his memory. This time, it came with a face.

He shrieked her name in falconese and dove. The air around him howled against his tightened, feathered form, and guided him with wisps of scent. An ornate mansion waited below, more remote than any of the others like it, and windowed with stained glass. Beast Boy shot for its door like a heavenly bullet.

Above the ground, he spread his wings, skimming a walkway made from stone that led to the front doors of the mansion. He shucked his wings and grew legs upon which to run out his momentum. The scent grew stronger as he sprinted at the door. Dozens of others' scents fought to overpower it.

He reached the stone stoop beneath an angelic, stained glass mosaic. His breath stayed even, his eyes, narrowed and sharp. The buzzing sense of fear faded. His suspicion remained. He pounded on the door. "Hello? Anyone? Raven? Are you in there?" he shouted.

Dead silence answered. Moments later, he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. His ears opened fully and found a bevy of beating hearts, creaking joints, muffled breathing, rustling clothes, and shifting weights behind the ornate carving of the entryway.

The door opened, presenting a sliver of the mansion's interior blocked by a gruff answerer. "This is private property," a man at the door said. "You're trespassing. Leave, or we'll call the police."

Beast Boy scowled. Couldn't the affluent afford words like "hello?"

He rested a hand on the door to keep it from closing. The man behind the door struggled against Beast Boy's ropy strength to no avail. "I'm looking for a girl," Beast Boy told him. "About sixteen, yea high, really pasty complexion? Uses magic? Likes to sarcasm people to death?"

The single eye in the crack of the door scowled. "There's no one here like that. I won't tell you again to leave."

"See, that's funny," Beast Boy said, and drew a long breath. "Her scent is coming crazy-strong through that door. Now, why don't you open up before I—"

He staggered forward as the man inside stepped aside, allowing the door to fall open. The interior of the mansion revealed itself to Beast Boy in one overwhelming instance.

A long train of people in red cloaks wound down a staircase at the back of a grand hall. The train of cloaks had halted on the steps upon Beast Boy's entrance. Their line led Beast Boy's eyes from the top to the bottom, where Brother Blood stood at the foot of the stairs.

Behind and above Blood floated a statue dressed in red silk and lace, with a veil over its face that wafted in the still air. The statue had been carved from the blackest obsidian in existence, and possessed a pair of brilliant eyes that struck Beast Boy with a wordless plea.

"Raven!" he cried.

A _crack_ filled the hall. Beast Boy felt his chest burst with pain and force that felled him to his knees. His eyes watered upon the sight of a wet, tattered crater that had formerly been his chest.

He followed his ears to find the Mother Méhymn, who cradled a pump-action shotgun against her shoulder. She strode toward him, pumping an empty cartridge from her cannon, and fired again. Gore sprayed from Beast Boy's chest and shoulder as the shot spun him to the ground. He was dimly aware of his life pooling onto polished hardwood beneath his face.

Then another pump of the gun sounded above him. A plastic cartridge bounced next to his face. Then thunder. His back erupted.

Mother Méhymn watched the aberrant shapeshifter bleed on her antique floor. She chambered another shell with a sharp gesture and said without looking up, "Dawn is coming. Continue to the chamber below, Brother Blood. The retainers and I will dispose of the intruder. Begin the ceremony. We will join you shortly."

Violent despair overwhelmed Blood from behind. With a wave, he pulled his statuesque bride around the stairs. Her silent sob slowed his steps. When they reached the bookcase, two tugs on Milton slid it aside to reveal a torch-lit stairwell that wound into the depths below. His head hung heavy as he led her and his train into the wall.

The Mother waited until the bookcase slid shut again. Then she toed the edge of the shapeshifter. His gushing, lanky form rolled over and bled at her. "Hmf. 'Titans' indeed. In the end, you take a shell like every other blasphemer. Praise be to Brother Blood," she prayed mechanically, and readied her shot to the base of his spine.

But as her finger tightened on the shotgun's trigger, her glare narrowed upon the tattered holes of his uniform. The red flesh inside pinched shut, stopping the fountain of blood. His muscle and skin squirmed back into place at unnatural speed. His skin rippled smooth. His slitted eyes snapped open.

Splinters geysered from the floor as the Mother fired. Beast Boy narrowed his shape into that of a serpent that shimmied around the shot. He stretched up around the crater as a massive python that coiled around the Mother before she could fire again. Her shotgun clattered to the floor as the green python constricted her into a creaking pillar of pain. His flickering tongue tasted her cheek.

A growth bulged from the python's side. It expanded into a humanoid shape wearing tattered white and purple no longer stained with red. The twisting python trailed from his elbow, its face still hissing in hers. He lifted her with his python-limb while her retainers rushed to her defense with knives and pistols.

Bringing her reddening face to his, Beast Boy growled. The voice emerging from behind his fangs was no longer quite human. "You like blood?" he snarled.

His mouth exploded with a leonine roar.

* * *

A circle of torch stands painted the cavern in warm color and made the long shadows dance at the edge of the ceremony. The center of the cavern had been carved smooth and flat into a dais large enough for a double ring of Blood's cloaked retinue. More followers littered the rough cavern floor around the dais, prostrated before their Priest's marriage and the impending arrival of their Lord.

Brother Blood stood at the center of the dais with his bride. Before them sat the ivory pedestal that sheathed The Hand, their holy sword. The Word rested against the hilt of the sword, opened to the last passage of His last book of prophecy, to the story that began the new world.

The torchlight was poor, and the shadows of his retainers were long, enfolding the book. But he did not need to read the words. They had been instilled in him since before he could read. He knew them by heart. "Gathered are we, in the presence of His Word, before His Hand," Brother Blood announced, and waved his glove over the pedestal. "We come in His name, in His honor, to release His glory upon us and all who would have him."

"His glory comes," the congregation hummed.

Terror. Horror. Rage. Defiance. A tidal wave of emotions struck Blood from within, spraying from the grasp he held on Raven's soul-shell. Without voice or thought, she pleaded, begged, demanded. With everything she had left, Raven tried to stop him.

Blood wavered under the empathic barrage. It shook him from his sermon, weakening his knees. He regained his composure with a long, shaky breath, and forced himself to continue.

"Though we are small, we too may serve Him," Blood said in a strengthening voice. The jade in his silver skull burst into flame, glowing bright white in the recesses of his mask. "We are bound today to bring Him to us through His gift: a Portal, sent to us by Him, made of His flesh and the flesh of our world."

"Praise be to the Portal," the congregation hummed to Raven.

"We offer the Portal now the means to free Him," Blood said, his voice rising with his hands. "Here in the earth He covets, we bring to her the first light of the Fire that warms us all."

Three retainers at the far wall of the cave grunted as they pushed into the grips of a massive wheel crank mounted in the stone. The crank pulled a series of cables strung up the curve of the cave to its jagged ceiling. A shaft in the ceiling slid open with their efforts.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, slowly, light began trickling into the shaft. Mirrors on the surface captured the dawn and flung it underground, where it poured into a column that consumed the dais.

As the light intensified around them, Blood commanded Raven's hand. She offered it to him, its obsidian alighted in the cascading dawn column. Blood reached behind the book on the pedestal and drew The Hand. Its bone-white blade emerged with a soft scraping sound.

"We now open the Portal," Blood preached as he raised the blade, "that she may bear Him into our world!"

The soul-shell over Raven's palm retracted just enough for a thin strip of skin to appear. Hiding his wince behind silver teeth, Blood drew the Hand's blade across her palm, opening a small cut. Black bile pooled in her hand.

With no wince at all, Blood split his glove with the blade. A shiver ran through him as The Hand split his skin. "We sanctify her with the blood of His Priest, that His passing into our world be blessed."

"Praise be to Brother Blood," the congregation hummed.

As Blood lifted his hand to seal the pact, a commotion erupted at the far side of the cave. The narrow mouth of the stairwell vomited a tangle of burly, cloaked retainers, who fell to the cavern floor in a twisted heap. All eyes left the dais to glare upon the green grizzly bear that trundled from the steps and trod over the pile of retainers.

The bear shrank back into Beast Boy, who thrust his jagged claw across the roomful of red cloaks at Brother Blood. Fangs bared, Beast Boy bellowed, "Let her go, Skeletor, or else!"

His imposing entrance silenced the room. But a shrill scream soon filled it again. A blur of white festooned in red leapt from the stairs and latched onto Beast Boy's back. He staggered, surprised by the legs wrapping around his waist. Before he could shift, two wrinkled hands grasped his head and twisted. A violent gunshot sounded from his neck as the light left his eyes. He collapsed to the cavern floor, his head canted at a deathly angle.

Mother Méhymn rose from his body. Red blotches stained her cloak, which had been clawed to tatters by a dozen wild creatures. One of the blotches spread into her cloak at her hip. She ignored the wound, and screamed, "Finish it!"

Shaking, Blood turned back to Raven. Her protest rose to a crescendo. He could hear her voice in his head now. But the older voice in his head made him reach for her bloodied hand with his. "We sanctify her with the blood of His Priest, that His passing into our world be blessed."

"Praise be to Brother Blood," came the chant.

Blood stood in the column of dawn, his slick hand growing warm and black in that of his statuesque bride. His congregation fell to the floor with faces scraping the stone. The air in the cavern fell still as every breath hung bated in the chests of each cloaked believer. They waited for the glory of their Lord to bathe them in the truth of His new world.

They waited.

Nothing happened.

Blood peeled his hand from Raven's and stared at the sticky brown mess in his palm. He looked around as if he had simply missed the arrival of a towering interdimensional being. His followers did the same. One by one, faces rose from the stone floor to sweep the cavern, which remained absent of any gods, anticipated or otherwise.

Mother Méhymn rose last. Fury creased her face, scaling Brother Blood across the cavernous expanse. "Brother Blood! What is the meaning of this!" she bellowed. "Where is our Lord?"

"I don't know! I performed the ritual as it was written." Blood clenched his bleeding hand, searching it for answers. There had been not even a spark of magic in the culmination of the ritual. He had felt nothing, save for Raven's slick grasp. "I don't know what happened."

"You miserable child!" the Mother howled, turning the heads of the entire congregation. "You sabotaged the ritual to save your cow! Admit it!"

The fire in Blood's eyes flared. The Hand dropped to his feet, clattering on the smoothed stone. "Do not forget your place, Mother Méhymn," he boomed. "I know the ritual! It failed."

Quaking with rage, the Mother stabbed her finger at the gowned statue beside him. "Open her. Spill everything! Our Lord demands blood. Blood shall he have!" Narrowing her glare, she added, "Blood of you both, honored Brother, if so He desires."

She drew breath to demand their sacrifice. Her words froze at the sound of a low, wet, bestial rumble emanating from the floor behind her. The sound—the growl—touched something primal in her. Animal fear surfaced from the oldest parts of the Mother as she turned.

The shapeshifter's body was gone. In its place crouched an enormous beast draped in fur that consumed the light around it. Emerald quills stood from its back in a prickling wave. Its fore-claws dug deep furrows into the stone as it stood. Powerful muscle rippled across its towering form. Its tilted head righted with a series of sickening pops, bringing its black eyes to bear upon the Mother.

A howl split the beast's maw to shake the cavern. It batted the Mother aside, flinging her through the air with a brush of its claw. She struck a stalagmite and slid into shadow, ragdoll limp. Her congregation watched her disappear before turning upon the unholy beast in their midst. Rising as one, the Church rushed to defeat it.

Snarling, the beast dove through the sea of cloaks. Its claws tore aside the feeble mob, sending bodies flying in all directions. Blood sprayed from its quills and matted its fur. Flesh ribboned from its claws. Its teeth grasped and tossed screaming, bloodied cloaks between furious roars. Its black eyes never left the statue on the dais.

Brother Blood watched his retinue crash off the creature wreaking destruction straight toward him. As the beast burst through his last line of retainers, Blood raised his arms against it. Red ether coiled around the beast in rings, pinning its arms to its sides and lifting it into the air.

The beast's mind was dark in Blood's empathic senses. When Blood delved deeper into it, he brushed a terrible anger that shook his very core. Blood's mind recoiled. He stepped back, strengthening the soul-bonds wrapped around the floating beast. "You are not welcome, creature!" he bellowed.

Primal hate burned in the creature's empty eyes. It struggled against its immutable bonds, to which Blood smirked behind his mask. Then the beast's body began to shift. Its bones crackled, rearranging the beast's joints until its shoulders were free from the soul-bonds. It shimmied its arms up and out, and then clawed at the bonds. Red, ethereal splinters broke from the bonds with each swipe.

Blood could not repair the bonds quick enough. The beast burst free, shattering Blood's soul-self with an inhuman bellow. Its eyes and jaws turned upon Blood at once.

Caught in the beast's hateful leer, Blood froze. "Oh, crap," he murmured.

The beast's swipe shattered Blood's helmet. Blood sailed from the dais, his mask wrenching off his face. Three deep furrows gushed across his slackened features as he tumbled to the rough floor.

Pounding its chest with a howl, the beast turned to Raven. Its claws scraped across her ethereal skin. It whimpered and _whuffed_, testing her face with its muzzle. Her eyes blazed at the beast. Growing enraged, the beast began to claw and pound on her. Nothing it did could move her. It wore its claws to the bone against her shell. Its jaws gnawed on her shoulder, breaking its fangs, which grew again with another roar.

Blood roused with a groan. His muddled senses found the commotion, and pointed his gaze at the beast, which clawed the stony face of his bride over and over. Its roars echoed through the chamber.

The sight of the beast flamed Blood's heart into an unholy inferno. Rage filled his hands with roiling ether. He sprang from the floor and charged the beast. Barefaced and bleeding, he howled, "Get away from her!"

His soul-self poured from his hands into a shaft that hammered the beast's side. The beast crumpled on the end of his shaft, which hammered it from the light and into a stalagmite. Stone shattered beneath the beast's impact. It slumped, and then struck the stalagmite again at another blow from Blood's soul-self.

Blood screamed. Red ether wrapped around his legs, launching him at the beast. His soul-self tore into the beast's chest. Hate burned in Blood's eyes as he carved the beast apart.

The beast yowled and grabbed Blood by the head. Claws dug into the back of Blood's skull, and a hairy palm muffled his scream. It shoved him into an opposite stalagmite, stunning him long enough for the gushing wounds in the beast's chest to close. It lunged at Blood with slavering jaws spread wide in a snarl.

Soul-self spilled into the stalagmite behind Blood. The stone broke free from the cave with a terrific _crack_. It flipped above him and caught the beast on its point, splitting the beast's chest in a wet blow that turned its snarl into a gurgle.

Blood drove the stalagmite hard, carrying the beast into the far wall. Gore spewed from its maw as the stone spear buried its tip into the wall, sticking the beast. Its lifeblood spilled around the stone as it writhed and roared. Frothing red, it pulled at the stone, which would not dislodge.

"You won't get her," Blood rasped, and wiped his eyes. He staggered toward the struggling beast. "I'll die before I let you hurt her."

When he cleared his eyes, he stopped. The beast had grasped the broken end of the stalagmite. It pulled its holed body along the conical shaft, inching itself closer to the edge, howling with every gruesome mote of progress it made. With a tremendous shove and a roar, the beast slid itself off the end of the shaft.

Its gushing chest closed itself. Crackling noises escaped the wounds as its bones reconnected and reordered to fill the void the stalagmite had left. It fell onto all four claws and pierced Blood with a soulless glare, growling.

Once more, Blood shrank back and murmured, "Oh, crap."

He scrambled backwards, turned, and ran back toward the dais, weaving around his unconscious retinue. Scraping claws and animal grunts closed in behind him. He felt the air from a close claw swipe kiss the back of his neck as he slid onto the dais and grasped the fallen bone-white sword. He swung the sword blindly to parry the next claw.

The beast slapped the sword from his grasp. It clattered back to the dais, leaving Blood only his hands, soul, and wits with which to challenge the beast. He decided on none of these, and ducked beneath the beast's swipes. The beast chased him across the dais, snarling as Blood danced just ahead of its claws.

Then its missed swipe struck Raven's face. The beast clawed through her soul-shell, tearing a shard from her immutable cheek. Black bile trickled from the breach, and dripped from her jaw.

Both Blood and the beast stopped cold. The beast's nostrils flared with her scent. Blood watched the bile trickle down her glossy cheek. His body trembled. His eyes blazed.

Screaming, Blood swallowed the beast in a wave of soul-self. The ether sealed around the beast, constricting until it pressed tight into every part of him. Blood flung him into the air and bellowed, "Don't you touch her!"

The beast's roar was muffled behind the red membrane imprisoning it. There was no air for it to breathe, and nothing to brace against in midair. Its claws couldn't cut with rounded soul-self cushioning its efforts. It flailed, unable to roar again for lack of breath. Its struggles grew frenzied and desperate.

Blood raised the soul-clad beast and then smashed it to the floor. He raised it, and smashed it again. The pliable soul-self kept the beast trapped without protecting it from impact in the slightest. The beast's face plowed the stone again and again, harder each time. Its snarling struggles turned to whimpering.

Blood heard nothing but the sound of flesh and bone breaking against rock. "I won't let you hurt her! I won't let you take her!" he screamed.

As the cavern floor caved beneath Blood's hammering blows, the beast trapped in his soul-self began to dwindle. It shrank beneath the red wrap, its muscles and fur collapsing into a lanky form. Blood didn't notice, and hammered all the harder, reveling in the wet _crunch_ of each blow.

The statue on the dais behind him bled through the miniscule cut in its cheek. Its unblinking eyes watched Blood brutalize the reddened shape. Pure willpower focused into a single thought behind the breach. The cut in the statue's cheek creaked. It cracked. Slowly, a web spread from either end of the cut, crisscrossing her glossy black soul-shell.

Raven exploded from the shell with a scream. She collapsed onto the dais, heaving, her ashen skin glistening with sweat. Her twilight eyes bounded wildly across the room as she came to her senses. When they found Blood, they narrowed, and burst into white brilliance.

The scream turned Blood. His soul-snare dissipated with surprise, allowing the sack of wet green meat within to drop to the floor. "Raven!" he cried.

His will darted unseen to plunge through her chakra and recapture her soul. But Raven was ready this time. Her psychic walls batted his will aside with such force that he staggered back and clutched his forehead.

The shards of black ice around her dissipated. Her recollected ether roiled from her body as she floated into the air. Kinetic will billowed her dress. Talons manifested in her hands, curling with her fists. "No more," she growled, her voice echoing throughout the cavern.

Blood raised his hands pleadingly. "Raven, I don't want to fight y—"

She crossed the distance in a heartbeat. Her black-taloned punch rocketed Blood across the cavern through a field of stalagmites and drove him into the wall. Stone sprayed and skittered from the sideways crater he dug. Raven hung in the air, her shoulders heaving. More ether spread from her with vengeful intent as she waited.

Gasping, Blood flopped out of the wall, collapsing onto his hands and knees. His namesake trickled down his chin to drip onto the floor. Pain molested every part of him. He stared up at the dark cloud gathering opposite him with shocked anger. The anger was echoed by another voice inside of him.

For the first time in his life, he embraced that wrathful voice. It filled him with power, and made hateful red embers of his eyes.

"I did this so I could be with you!" Blood bellowed. His voice reverberated without the cavern's echo. He rose, and was consumed in a torrid tempest of red ether. "I only ever wanted to be with you! Why can't you understand that?"

The ether around Raven flared. It spread from her shoulders and stretched from her feet. "You tried to end the world!" she spat back. "How can you not understand **that**?"

Rage twisted his face. "What am I supposed to do? This was set in motion eons ago by beings we can't even comprehend! The world is ending, Raven! We can't stop this!"

"Because you won't even try!" she shouted.

"Because it wouldn't matter!" Blood shouted back. His ether burgeoned to match hers, lifting him from the ground. Claws stretched from his hands and feet. Wings unfurled from his back. A serpentine head swallowed his, growing a sinewy neck, translucent and terrible. "I won't throw my life away for nothing!"

With a screak, Raven charged him, her soul-self coalescing into its true form. A terrible black bird of ether descended upon him. Her wings made tempest of the air. Her beak snapped at him, and its talons raked him.

Blood roared with both mouths. His soul-self hardened, becoming scales and claws and a slithering tail. His leathery wings beat the air, carrying him as a great, red dragon to maul the raven attacking him.

Soul sparked as claw met talon. The raven beat his serpentine head with her wings, and pecked his eyes with her needle beak. Roaring, the dragon thrashed his claws, digging feathery gouts of ether from the raven's side. Wit ha shriek and a gust, the raven slammed the dragon into the cavern ceiling. Stalactites rained from the shuddering cavern as the two creatures rolled and roiled in combat.

A stone struck the wet green sack. It moaned, and stirred. It pulled together into Beast Boy, who shambled to his knees with no memory of why his everything hurt so much. As his eyes came back into sorts, and his ears ceased their violent ringing, he searched the cavern for the missing gap in his memory. Instead, he found a titanic struggle of two soul-beasts that swept the air above him.

Deadly stone rained around him as Beast Boy stared in awe of the dragon and the raven. The black bird fought with ferociousness that startled even him. But with each passing moment, the dragon grew stronger, fueled by something unseen that buzzed in the air. The raven's strength began to wane. The dragon gained the upper claw, and tore into the raven's side with snapping jaws.

Jolted by the raven's cry, Beast Boy looked around. He might become a pterodactyl, or a tyrannosaurus, but even dinosaur strength would pale in comparison to either soul-beast. How was he supposed to fight a dragon?

The answer came as his eyes fell upon the dais. He ran for the shaft of dawn.

The dragon's claws tore the raven asunder. Raven fell to the ground, trailing shreds of her soul-self behind her tattered dress. She bounced and collapsed, groaning, trying to collect herself physically and otherwise. The rough stone rattled beneath her as the dragon landed, bracketing her with its fore-claws. Its head twisted down to glare upon her. A cold growl rolled between its red teeth to chill her whole.

Its jaws split and reached for her. Raven did not turn away. She watched it come, overwhelmed with, not fear, but regret.

Its growl silenced as if startled. It hesitated, pulling back, closing its maw to look upon her with burning eyes. Raven stared back, entranced. Her ragged breathing slowed to match the dragon's. As if drawn, her eyes trailed down his neck and found the silhouette trapped in its gullet. She reached out with a trembling hand to touch the dragon's muzzle.

A guttural scream startled both the girl and the dragon. They looked away and saw a green gorilla charge them, its feet and knuckles slapping the stone. A pale blade swung in its grasp. The gorilla sprang and cleaved the dragon's long neck. Its sword passed through the dragon as though it were a curtain of water. The dragon's head fell from its body with a scream, and then dissipated.

As the gorilla swung again, the headless dragon surged around its core. It tightened and solidified until Blood's head emerged from an enormous suit of dragon armor. The scaled soul-suit bared its leathery wings and carried him back from the sword.

He struck the gorilla with a fist the size of a man. The gorilla collapsed, dropping its sword as it shrank back into a dazed Beast Boy.

Red tendrils snaked from Blood's soul-hand and brought him the sword. His armor dwarfed the blade, even as it made his soul-self shimmer with dread. Blood burned Beast Boy with a glare as he lifted the blade overhead.

"No!" Raven leapt forward. Her soul-self stretched and caught Blood's fist as it brought the blade down on Beast Boy. Arcane sparks rained where their souls met in a contest of wills. She rose from the ground, floating until their straining faces drew even. The blade trembled between their ethereal hands.

"Why am I not enough for you?" Blood demanded through his teeth. Sweat poured down his brow, sizzling where it struck his eyes. "I was happy with you! We could be together! Why give it up for a doomed world full of…this?" he said, and looked at Beast Boy with disgust.

Raven bowed her head, looking upon the shapeshifter. Beast Boy cowered beneath them, wide-eyed, helpless to tip the scales of their battle. In a quiet voice, she told Blood, "I'm happy with you. More than happy. But my happiness isn't worth the world."

Through the demonic hatred, Blood felt a jolt of shock at her words. "But you can't win," he said.

Raven's soul-self trembled. The sword inched closer to her as Trigon and his Priest overcame her strength. She did not move, remaining over Beast Boy. "It doesn't matter," she said. "I don't matter. This does."

Blood pushed the sword ever closer to her chest. Its tip began to unravel the soul-self protecting her. The sword glistened as if hungry for the black bile that ran from a dozen cuts in her dress. Her lips darkened with blood. But she stood her ground in cold determination. She wouldn't stop.

Raven jerked forward as the force opposing her vanished. The sword in her soul-grasp swung forward. Its white blade parted the red ether, and then plunged into Blood's chest. Raven gasped in shock as she felt the hilt settle against the front of his robes. Blood poured over her soul-self on the sword's hilt.

She and Blood settled to the floor, lost in shock. Raven grasped the sword and tried to pull it from his chest. The sword would not let him go. It clung in him, sheathed in his heart, bathed in the life ebbing from his wound.

He found her face with the color of old jade. His hand shook for her. She grasped it to her cheek, her vision growing hot and clouded. In his touch, she silenced the world around them. A spark of joy traversed the gulf between them. She sobbed, and echoed the joy back to him.

He smiled. Then he gagged and shook.

He left her.

Raven held his cooling hand to her cheek and felt the world around her return. It poured past her psychic walls, filling her with the thoughts and dreams and feelings of a planet she would never understand. Her cheeks ran with loss as she clutched him, her hand still on the sword. Her mouth opened. Nothing emerged.

Beast Boy rose slowly to his knees. His senses filled with death as he crawled toward Raven. He watched her stare into Blood with lifeless eyes. Neither of them moved. If not for her tears, Beast Boy might have thought her a statue again.

He started to speak. He reached for her. But then he stopped, and dropped both his voice and his hand.

Rubble crunched behind him. Beast Boy turned his head and saw the Mother Méhymn staggering toward them. Her robes were in shambles, stained with blood and dirt. Cuts and bruises mottled her face, which twisted at the sight of Blood impaled on The Hand. She stopped at the edge of Raven's grief and fell to her knees.

Numbly, the Mother watched His Portal cradle His Priest. The ceremony had failed. Their Lord remained trapped between worlds. And now she had no more means by which to free Him. After a lifetime of piety and service, she had failed.

She reached within her robes and drew a small black device. It had but a single button, which her thumb filled. Bowing her head, she whispered, "Blessed are we." She pressed the button.

Explosions burst in the ceiling, filling the cavern with a dynamite shout that punched Beast Boy's ears. He flinched and watched stalactites hail from the ceiling, which cracked to pieces in a deafening crash of stone. Boulders crushed the floor, consuming unconscious cloaks, burying everything and everyone inside the collapsing cavern.

Beast Boy lunged for Raven. He screamed her name, but she didn't move. With a morphing screech, he spread himself into a pterodactyl and grasped her shoulders with his claws, and beat the clouded air as hard as he could.

Stone javelins rained at him. He twisted, screeching a prayer with each near miss. The dead weight in his claws lolled as he skimmed the edges of the falling stone.

White light pierced the haze. It was the shaft of dawn over the dais, and it was shrinking fast. He pointed himself at the light and flew as hard as he could.

He rolled around a falling stalactite. Smaller rocks thumped his wings and bit his eyes. When he reached the shaft, he pounded the air, shooting himself up the tunnel. The smooth walls were cracked and pinching with the weight of the cavern's collapse. He clutched his claws to his body and flew into the sunrise. The tunnel's pinching mouth skinned his tail before coughing a final breath of stony air.

The morning felt warm and wet. He caught it in his wings, settling them onto the rumbling ground. Behind them, the mansion screamed with shattering glass and snapping timber as its ceiling fell behind its walls, and its walls, behind the gaping earth. Detritus plumed from the dying mansion. Its mosaic angel wept into pieces of sparkling color that smashed on the ground.

When the rumbling ceased, Beast Boy shrank back around Raven, pressing her to his chest. He felt her shudder. She coiled herself around the white sword, which was stained red, and biting the skin of her thigh until it bled. Crimson and black covered her chest and hands and streaked her face. She stared into nothing, her eyes wide and streaming. He felt her shudder, but no sound emerged from her slackened lips.

He curled around her and held her until her shuddering quelled.

* * *

Afternoon sunlight streamed through Beast Boy's window. A city's worth of noise came with it, pounding against the amateur filters Beast Boy had developed to deal with such distracting matters. He stood in his room, tugging the collar of a new uniform into place. Its purples and whites shone brightly in his mirror.

Beast Boy held the gloves of his uniform last. He stared down at the claws curled around the unstable fabric. They seemed longer than before, less human than they had been yesterday. He bit his lip, and felt the deeper prick of his fangs. His ears twitched harder than usual. It could have been his imagination.

But his thoughts weren't for himself. Tired though he was, he couldn't bear to think about the paltry aches in his own body. His mind remained stuck in the recesses of a dank cavern beneath a mansion.

So many people had died today. And for what? A ceremony? Faith?

Love?

Beast Boy thought of Brother Blood. Of Dominic's face beneath the mask. Of Raven's face as she watched Dominic's eyes grow cold. Beast Boy had seen death before. It was never easy to see, but it wasn't what made him cold inside now. It wasn't Dominic's face that was burned into his memory, but Raven's. As hard as he could, he wished he never had to see such an expression again. He would rather die.

When Beast Boy emerged from his room, Cyborg was waiting for him. The large Titan leaned against the wall with his arms folded and his brow furrowed. The burden of a rescue missed hung heavily in Cyborg's shoulders.

"What's the word?" Beast Boy asked. There were other questions, droves of other questions Cyborg had yet to ask, but Beast Boy's came first. He wasn't sure how much Cyborg already knew, as he hadn't finished his own tale before insisting on changing his clothes. Raven must have filled him in on the rest. Where was she?

Grim thoughts set Cyborg's jaw. "The police found a collapsed mansion with no sign that anyone was caught inside when it went. Apparently, a cavern underneath the place that had conveniently disappeared off of city records just collapsed, swallowing most of the house. There's no way they can excavate the cavern. It's just two hundred thousand tons of packed rubble now. Anything buried down there is there to stay."

Beast Boy nodded solemnly. "And the Church?" he asked.

"Not a peep out of them," Cyborg said. "But they've already started cancelling all of their public events and appearances on the sly. They're trying to keep it quiet, but it looks like they're done with this city. I wouldn't be surprised if they pulled out in the next few weeks."

Again, Beast Boy nodded, only half-listening. His nose plumbed the air, and found what he was looking for: a trail that ended at the door next to his. Her scent was steeped in a deep undercurrent, mixed with a coppery smell that prickled his beast.

"How is she?" he asked.

Cyborg folded his arms. "She told me the rest. You two were lucky to get out of there alive. You should have called for backup right away," he said darkly. There was more than a little self-reproach in his voice. Beast Boy could practically hear the _clang_ of Cyborg kicking himself for not being there.

"I'm not really sure how I found her," Beast Boy admitted. "One minute, I'm hearing this whisper, and then bam, I'm flying over some mansion, and…"

"Raven said she sent out a psychic beacon," said Cyborg. "Don't ask me what that means. I didn't really get it, but I guess it was so weak that only somebody already worried about her could hear it. Thoughts and feelings and mental mumbo-jumbo…" he said, waving his hands as he trailed off.

"Yeah. Mumbo-jumbo," Beast Boy grunted, staring at her door.

Cyborg pulled his lips tight. He rested a hand on Beast Boy's shoulder, and said, "Dude, are you all right?"

"Mmn."

"You…" Cyborg hesitated. His curiosity overcame his worry as he said, "Raven told me some about the beat-down you took. You don't even have a scratch on you. Matter of fact, you haven't had a scratch in a long time, even after we all take a pounding. You wanna tell me about that?"

Beast Boy closed his eyes. He felt a growl run underneath his skin. "Not today, Vic. Okay?"

"Sure," Cyborg said, and patted him on the back as he turned to leave. When Beast Boy took a step toward Raven's door, Cyborg paused, and said, "Gar? She's been through a lot. You're both off-duty for the rest of the day. Give her space."

Beast Boy stopped. "Sure," he said. "I will. Thanks, Vic."

He waited until Cyborg was just a pair of fading footsteps, and then approached her door.

His knuckles hovered above her nameplate, wondering what to do. She might not let him in. Should he slip under her door as a dust mite? Demand to see her? As if that would go well… In the end, he knocked on her door, and called, "Raven? Raven, can we talk?"

It was a long moment before she answered, one of the longest of his life. The door slid aside far enough to reveal hooded, hollow features that were hidden in shadow. She stood wrapped in her cloak. Her gaze traveled straight through him.

She did not speak. He struggled too long to fill the silence, unable to produce more than half-syllables as a start to his muddled thoughts. But when she reached for the door, he blurted, "I'm sorry!"

Raven stared through him for an eternity. Then, she rasped, "Why?"

Her voice was empty. He never thought he would feel nostalgic for the days when Raven would curse his presence with bitter resentment, or sting him with sarcasm. "I… I was wrong. About Dominic," he said at last.

Not even her breathing changed. She stood as frozenly as she had on the dais. "You weren't," she said at last.

"I was. I…" His hands flittered, unsure of what to do. He grasped them with each other, and said, "What I smelled about him…what was wrong…it wasn't any of…that. He was like you, wasn't he? Half…human. That's what I smelled. I just didn't figure it out, because I've never smelled anyone who smells like you before, and it smelled wrong because people aren't supposed to smell like…you."

Her gaze dipped to the floor. "He was like me," she echoed dully.

Shame kicked Beast Boy in the stomach. "That's not what I meant," he said quickly. "I just…I was jealous. Of him. But I get it now. I really do. You—"

"You're too loud."

The murmur shut his mouth. He blinked, and asked, "What?"

Raven's eyes focused on him at last. Her chin tilted up, chasing some of the shadow from her face. The sorrow wrought into her tired countenance sucked the breath out of him.

"I like you, Garfield," she said softly. "But your emotions are just too strong. I can't lower my guard around you, or they would overwhelm me. I like you. But you're loud."

"I…like you too?" he said. It was all he could think to say.

Her gaze lost its focus. Her cloak rustled, parting. Her arms mechanically lifted a small wrap of red cloth. A polished hilt stuck from the end of the wrap, which she offered to Beast Boy. "Would you take this to Evidence for me? Please."

"I…" Beast Boy numbly took the wrap. A distant part of him recognized the red cloth around the sword as the dress she had worn in the cavern. The wrap reeked of blood. Its smell made his head swim.

Raven's eyes fell. Shadow consumed her face once more. "Thank you for saving me, Garfield," she murmured, and reached for the door control. "I need to meditate now. I'll see you later."

The door began to shut. Beast Boy watched her disappear in the dwindling gap. He grabbed the door and held it open, triggering its safety catch so it opened fully.

"Raven, I'm sorry. I can't think of anything to say but that. But I know you can. You always know what to say. So tell me," he pleaded.

The edge of her hood curtained her face completely. "Garfield…" she said.

He leaned into her door. The sudden closeness chased her half a step back and tightened her cloak around her. "When Terra hurt me, you knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. So tell me," he pleaded. "Tell me what to say, and I'll say it. Please, Raven."

Raven reached for the door control again. Her hand hovered, asking him gently without ever saying a word. With a broken expression, Beast Boy pulled back into the hall.

"It was just a plot by the Church, Garfield," Raven murmured. "It wasn't real. So it can't hurt."

"Raven…"

"It wasn't real," she said, but not to him.

The door closed, shutting him out.

**To Be Continued**


	24. The Family Way

Disclaimer

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

* * *

Doctor Katherine Brown toured the halls of her facility, the largest research laboratory on the West Coast. Her trusted aide, a clipboard loaded with half a ream of paper, rested on her hip. Designer shoes clipped smartly beneath her down the polished tile corridor, carrying her through the invisible rut of her morning routine.

A silver shaft shaped like a pen twirled in her fingers. She raised it to her lips and clicked its top. "Daily log, July Eighteenth, Oh-Six-Twenty-Three hours. I am beginning my morning inspection. There are no new matters at this time which require elucidation. As of now, all S.T.A.R. Labs' operations are proceeding in accordance with SOP and my own, somewhat stricter, parameters."

She grimaced, and added, "As a personal note, I would like to remind Doctor Brown, upon her weekly review of her own logs, that last call is a poor time to order your third martini. It gives you a splitting headache in the morning, and it makes you believe that dubious scruffy gentlemen are, in fact, microbiologists.

"Note addendum: disregard the 'conference' scheduled with Doctor 'Swifty' Jones regarding reproductive research this Friday. The fact that he misspelled 'reproductive' on his cocktail napkin should have been a more obvious indicator. Reference your new policy on cocktails two sentences ago," she said, and rubbed her forehead. "And look into an online dating service, or a cat. Either would be preferable to this. Moving on…"

She paced to a large, sealed lab door painted in bright red and yellow stripes. A small, wired window in the door allowed her to see inside. The spherical spacecraft docked therein rested on its gantry of non-reactive metals. Its silver surface shone as if it were perfectly polished every hour on the hour.

"Project: Fallen Songbird continues to yield no appreciable results. Each attempt we make to isolate the craft's individual systems has met with failure. I continue to suspect that its systems are so integrated, like a highly evolved biological entity, that they blend into a single device of such staggeringly complex simplicity that we cannot begin to fathom it. My superiors see this hypothesis as an excuse. I am hard-pressed to disagree.

"Translation of the logs we gleaned from the craft is bearing slightly better results. One word in particular seems recurrent in the extracted files. The closest human pronunciation of the word seems to be 'Avoir.' What it means, exactly, is a mystery. Our exolinguists suspect it is a proper noun. Was 'Avoir' perhaps the pilot? His destination?"

She chastised herself silently, and then said, "Forgive my speculation. My method suffers in the absence of caffeine. To continue…

"Our other extraterrestrial project is proceeding with an equally frustrating lack of progress," Brown said, and left the containment doors behind. "Koriand'r's lackluster recovery continues to vex us. After countless methods of treatment, and after several controversial—I would say 'harrowing'—experiments involving her nervous system, she shows no deviation in neurological activity.

"Part of the problem is our utter lack of baseline knowledge. Koriand'r isn't simply an alien; she is an alien whose physiology has been radically altered from its original state via invasive procedures. Were there any experts available on the subject of Tamaranian physiology, I have to wonder if even they would recognize what she is."

Brown sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose. "My apologies for the blunt statement. Koriand'r is wholly unique…and very young. And my continuing inability to help her, after everything she has done for her adopted world, frustrates me to distraction. For the moment, we can only continue her regiment of controlled radiation exposure in the hope that her own body can repair itself with the proper time and energy.

"Pause log." She stopped outside of the lab that housed Starfire and her recuperative equipment. A halfhearted smile flitted across her features as she clicked off the recording pen. "I believe it's Victor's turn to visit again, young miss," she murmured to the door. "Let's check your vitals and make sure you're in presentable shape for company, shall we?"

As she reached for the door, she felt curious warmth emanating from the metal handle. She wondered briefly if someone else on the project had adjusted the sunlamp rig above Starfire's bed.

White heat flashed in the crack of the opening door. Brown didn't have time even for a gasp as the door barged off its hinge and slammed into her, riding a concussive wave of fire and force. The door smashed her into the opposite wall as a hell storm belched through the gap it left. Heat crowded hallway, stripping the walls black.

Crumpled behind the paltry protection of the door, Brown fell from consciousness amidst a whirl of klaxons and crackling and distant screams. Her last thought was one of despair.

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

_The Family Way_

"It's fourth and fifteen. Fourth quarter, eighteen seconds left on the clock, and we're down by four, sitting on the forty yard line behind the meanest defense this side of the Gotham Knights," Cyborg said. "I mean, these guys all look like they eat iron bars and crap steel rivets, and they're all itching for a slice of QB pie."

He bounced back in the throes of his tale, cocking a phantom football back. He squinted across the cavernous Bay in search of receivers that were four years in the past. The shadow of the half-repaired Icarus swallowed him as he backed away from an imagined defensive line. With his other arm, he pointed to the nose of the CUTTER. His empty wrist singled out the pair of legs poking out from between the tank's wheels and treads.

"My boys hike the ball. I'm sweating so bad, I figure the pigskin's gonna squirt right outta my hand, so I cradle it while my receivers take off like bats outta hell," he said.

The sound of ratcheting metal emerged from under the tank. Squeaking grunts accompanied the ratchet. "Uh-huh," Tek said mechanically.

Strafing left, Cyborg aimed his empty wrist down an imaginary field. "These bruisers blitz past the line, ready to pound mama's favorite Stone into gravel. I wait until the very last second. By then, my receivers had to pay roaming charges just to call and ask me where the hell the ball was. I had three bulldozers stuffed into jerseys coming down on me. So I took aim, and I let it fly."

"Is this on backwards? Will the CUTTER explode if anything's on backwards? Because I have serious concerns about the backwardness this piece could be suffering from," Tek said through the treads. "Also, my hand is stuck."

Cyborg floated toward the CUTTER. His hand traced the path his football had taken. "Boom! The ball soars like a Metropolis cape while I go down. By the time I dig myself out of the dozer pile, it's still flying. The end zone's buzzing: my guys, their guys. It's all one big jersey blur. And then…"

Tek's legs stiffened with one last ratcheting grunt. "Whoop. There we go. Plus, most of my hand is still attached. I can just grow that skin back…"

"Bam!" Cyborg stomped the floor next to Tek's legs, making her jump beneath the tank. A cranial _clang_ rang from underneath, followed closely by her curse. Beaming, Cyborg crowed, "The ball drops right into Malloy's arms, like a no-net three-pointer from forty freaking yards. Touchdown! Met Maulers win the game! The crowd's on its feet, shaking apart the stands. _Hahhhhh! Hhhaaahhhh_!" he breathed.

Tek crawled out from under the tank with a groan. Her blue and white skin suit bore smudges of glistening black. More smudges littered her hands and face. She held a bulky, oddly-shaped ratchet against her side as she clambered to her feet. "Thanks for the hand, super-star," she said, and tossed him the ratchet. "Why don't you make sure your tank won't blow up the next time you turn it on?"

Cyborg plugged the ratchet into his arm. It mechamorphed into a closed fist, which he pumped. "Don't be intimidated by my athleticism, kid. I put my torso plate on one stem bolt at a time, same as everybody else. Besides, I thought ladies love tales of gridiron glory."

"I'm putty in your hands," Tek said with a grin. "Now tell me what an awesome job I did."

His ocular implant focused through the front of the CUTTER. Wireless connectors fed him diagnostic information. "Seal's tight. System's green. Congrats. That's one changed oil filter," he said.

She greased his hand with a high-five. Her grin consumed her face with toothy joy. "Sweet. So next you're gonna teach me to drive, right?"

"Not a chance," he said, and handed her a rag.

Her grin plunged into a calculated pout as she wiped uselessly at the oil on her hands. "Aw, c'mon! For all you know, I'm the greatest driver in the world. We already know I can fly the jet."

Cocking his brow, Cyborg said, "Yeah. I remember what condition my jet came back in when you flew it. Besides, for all you know, your driving is the reason you can't remember anything."

"Ooh, low blow," she razzed. "Maybe in your next upgrade they should reduce your jerk emissions."

He laughed and punched her arm. She tossed the rag in his face and punched him back. They dissolved into laughter, falling together against the grille of the CUTTER. Tek slid against Cyborg's side, greasy and giggling, and plucked the rag from his face to unveil a readied smile.

"…hey, Vic?" she began.

A nine-note ringtone jingled from his arm. He lifted its flashing surface to his face. A small hologram of the caller's ID hovered over his wrist. "Whoops. Gotta take this, kid. It's S.T.A.R. Labs."

She frowned. "Today's your day to visit Kory, right? I wonder what's up."

"I asked Doc Brown to look into something for me. My Dad's old stuff. Maybe she found something already," he said with a shrug. Tapping his metal ear, he said, "This is Cyborg. Go ahead."

Tek wondered at Cyborg's smile. In all the time she'd known him, Cyborg had hardly said anything about his father. Her uncontrollable memory began spitting knowledge at her, telling her facts about Silas Stone, the scientist who had twice brought Cyborg into the world. She couldn't recall anything about a project. If it couldn't wait until his visit that afternoon, it must be important.

She watched his smile gradually fade. Her own smile sank in sympathy as he sagged against the CUTTER. By the time he tapped the call closed, his face had grown slackened and waxy, his gaze, impossibly distant. He didn't make a move when she touched his arm. "Vic? Vic, what is it? What's wrong?" she asked.

His voice shook. "It's Kory…"

* * *

Claws clacking on the cold floor, Beast Boy worked his arms and head through his uniform top. He yawned his way through the collar as he careened into the hallway wall. Sleepiness plugged his senses, but the growing need in his bladder kept him on course for the bathroom at the end of the hall.

"A computer brain, hands that turn into tools, and you couldn't build a toilet less 'n thirty million feet from my bed?" he groused yawningly to no one, and bounced into the wall again. "Thinks I won't use his lawn. We'll see who builds who another bathroom when your stupid rose bushes start wilting, Mister 'One Bathroom For All.'"

His finger punched the wall, seeking the bathroom door control. Before his fingertip found the button, the door slid aside. The pungent aroma of the bathroom cut a swath of unpleasantness up his nose. Then it became overwhelmed by something not unpleasant.

Raven filled the doorway. Both she and Beast Boy stared back at the other's sudden appearance. She lowered the back of her hand from her mouth and straightened her cloak. Her surprised grimace cooled into disinterest.

"Good morning, Garfield," she said, and lifted her hood to shadow her face.

Surprise lingered in Beast Boy's expression. "Uh, hey, Raven. …how are you?"

The question made her eye tic, just once. She sidled past Beast Boy without a glance. "Fine, thank you," she said, and strode down the hall.

"Oh. Great," he said. "Of course, if you weren't fine, that'd be okay…too."

His tripping words paused her at the end of the hall. She stopped, bracing her hand on the corner, her head lowered. Her shoulders drew together as if to pinch her neck clean in two. Then she turned and marched back to him in a swirl of cloak.

"You need to stop," she told him tersely.

Beast Boy glanced to either side, confused. His ears drooped beneath her chilling glare. Mustering his toothiest grin, he said, "What are you talking about? I just said—"

"Yes, I know what you 'just said.' You've been 'just saying' it for weeks now, and it needs to stop," she told him. More than a head shorter than him, Raven nonetheless loomed over Beast Boy, shrinking him with a domineering presence that would have frozen fire itself. "I don't want you tiptoeing around me like I'm a powder keg waiting to explode. I don't need you mincing and coddling me. Just stop it."

Beast Boy's face curled. "Raven, I just want you to know that it's okay if you—"

"Just stop," she sighed impatiently.

"—if you don't—"

"Stop."

"—you don't feel like—"

"No."

"—like acting like—"

She snapped her fingers until he stopped talking. Her frown spread into his features as she said, "Stop. I understand what you're trying to do. It's admirable, but it's also very annoying. Please just try—_try_—acting like a normal person around me. I don't need…"

Raven trailed off. She sagged forward suddenly, as though her legs forgot how to work. Beast Boy lunged to catch her by the shoulders. As he eased her back against the wall, Raven clutched her temple, gaping at the empty air.

"Raven? What is it?" he asked.

Raven looked up at the ceiling. Beast Boy didn't understand, until he saw her eyes trying to focus on something much further than the wall. "Something's wrong. Something's very…"

Her cloak's clasp flashed. The auxiliary communicator within it activated, speaking in Cyborg's voice. "_Everyone report to the wardroom right now. There's… Something happened to… There's been an incident. Just get up here. Now._"

Despair resounded from a distant part of the Compound. It sucked the bones out of Raven's legs. She leaned into Beast Boy, clutching his arm as she fought the despair on both sides of her psychic walls.

The tumultuous feelings converged in her mind's eye, forming a face. It fell into her lips, emerging as a hoarse whisper. "Koriand'r…"

* * *

Excruciating pain consumed the void in her. She screamed, arching her back against a soft wall of sand, her voice grating against her raw throat until she tasted copper. The pain rebounded on itself until it built into a crescendo that left her in shreds.

When the pain ceased, she collapsed, hollowed. Her chest struggled to fill her with anything. She could barely move. The light in her was a pallid spark that flickered with every gasp she drew. Where had her light gone? Where was her strength?

Robin.

She remembered. Oh, X'Hal, she remembered. She tried to cry his name, but it came out as a garbled sob. She had killed him. She had poured her light into him. She had killed Robin.

"There's my little bungorf."

A voice. Sultry and smooth, like Risian beetle silk. She knew that voice. It had chased her through the palace with the shrieking laughter of a child. It had stood beside her in the clutches of the Gordanians' foul scientists, screaming as she did as the sick lizards twisted their bodies into something else. It had abandoned her. It had sworn vengeance upon their last meeting. Now it purred with imperiousness.

Sunlight shone orangely in her eyelids. She opened her eyes and heaved at the heavenly brilliance of the world. The sound of surf drummed languidly in her ears. Warm wind stirred the gnarled, greasy red mop pillowing her head. As her eyes adjusted, they focused on a silhouette hanging above her.

A cheshire smile broke the silhouette. Two lavender eyes gazed upon the naked, emaciated girl writing on the beach. "Good morning, sister dear," Blackfire sang. "It's so good to see you awake. You've been napping for such a long time. How do you feel?"

Starfire rasped a string of syllables that were nearly words. She clutched at the sand underneath her, trying to sit up or turn over. Her arms, which could once tear a Buick in half with just a gesture, could not even lift the brittle skeleton pushing through her sallow skin.

"Mmn. You've looked better, Koriand'r," Blackfire said. She shook her head as she descended to the beach. Her boots touched lightly upon the sand. The gleam of the sun in her silver bodysuit blinded Starfire's weak eyes. "Small wonder. You've been trapped in a room for half an Earth year, sucking all your meals through a tube and feeding on fake starlight."

A blackbolt gathered in Blackfire's hand. She cupped the brimming energy, running her fingers through its swirling contour. Her eyes glimmered with glee ass she hurled the bolt. Lavender fury lashed into Starfire, knocking her across the sand. The bolt left a sizzling welt in her side.

"Those primates never thought to jumpstart you with your own energy," Blackfire mused to her sobbing sister, and culled another blackbolt. "But then, I'm the only other person in the universe who can give it to you. If not for me, you might have laid in that torture chamber forever. How about a little gratitude for big sister?"

She hurled her bolt. It struck Starfire in the stomach, rolling her onto her side as she dug a line in the beach. She curled into a fetal ball, half-buried in the sand, and stammered a cry that clenched her aching chest. Tears rolled from her eyes, making the sand stick to her screwed face.

Blackfire strode across the beach, kicking flotsam out of her way. "Now, normally, I would be fine leaving ickle Koriand'r to waste away under the care of those barbarian witch doctors. But I've had some recent trouble that's made me think that a little vacation would be good for me. That, and those back-berth Centaurans still want me in prison. So I decided to come and stay on your little playground for a while.

"But it's boring as void here, little sister. You've got costumed jesters running around with alien refugees in a giant orbiting phallus, and I'm still bored! So we're going to cook up a little fun, you and me. Just like the old days. Sisterly bonding."

She reached Starfire. Her boot planted pain in Starfire's side, making the sickly girl jerk and sob. Leaning down, Blackfire grasped Starfire's matted hair and yanked her head from the sand. "I'm going to kill you, Koriand'r. I'm going to hunt you like a zarnic. And when I finally tire of your screams, I'm going to drive my fist down your pretty little face…" She clutched her hand into a fist, which lit with lavender fire. "And I'll cook you from the inside."

Snuffing her fist, she grinned and let Starfire drop. "But hey, you've had a rough year. I can appreciate that. That's why I brought you here. It's a nice place, right?" she asked, and gestured around. "Secluded, warm, peaceful… So kick back and relax. Soak up some sun. Have some fun. Because in a few days, I'm coming back here to kill you like the feebled Gorlonian you are."

Blackfire kicked into the air off of Starfire's stomach. "Be seeing you, sister!" she called, and faded into the sky.

Starfire clutched at the receding dot that was Blackfire. Her arms collapsed under their own weight. She lay trapped on her side. Her panting breath barely stirred the sand at her cracked lips.

Past her feet, she saw the edge of the water pushing the beach with its frothing hand. Above her, she saw lush, unkempt greenery, trees and underbrush knitted together into a wall that lined the long beach. The wind stirred through leaves, rustling unseen birds into brief song.

Moments ago, she had been embroiled in battle at Slade's abandoned lair for the soul of her beloved. In a blink, she had lost half a year, her body, her light, and her friends. She had lost the Titans. She had lost her Robin.

She screamed. Her fingers clawed at the sand beneath her as she howled sobbingly at the crystal blue sky. She closed her eyes and screamed until she couldn't move. Then she laid still, crying softly as throbbing pain filled her emptiness.

* * *

Tek groped for the lobby door. She could hardly see anything through the curtain of tears that had shrouded her face all morning. Pushing in, she stumbled through the white blur of the lobby, hardly remembering to hold the door for the trio following her.

Beast Boy took the door from Tek and played the dejected doorman for Raven and Bushido. The violet of his uniform had been replaced with a somber black. Puffy circles dangled from his eyes as he traded nods with the others. "I still can't believe Doc Brown made it to the service. She looked like a mummy in a wheelchair."

"Considering the amount of painkillers she appeared to be on, I doubt she'll remember much," Bushido noted. His silk robes swished behind his purposeful stride, and seemed to swallow the ambient light around him. "Still, it was a lovely service. The mayor was quite flattering in his eulogy."

Raven tossed back the hood of her black cloak. "He's up for reelection in four months. I'm guessing his campaign manager wet himself at the thought of presiding over a hero's funeral. He'll erect Koriand'r a monument if he thinks it'll boost his polls."

"He'll have to say 'Koriand'r' right first," Beast Boy said with a mild smirk. Adopting a deep pitch, he gruffed, "We are here today to honor Korinander. Koribander. Kory…Starfire of Tanamaran."

Bushido chuckled, but Raven just yawned. She floated through the security door, and said, "I'm going to lie down. I'm exhausted."

"I believe I shall retire to my room as well," said Bushido, following on foot.

Tugging uncomfortably at the collar of his uniform, Beast Boy called, "Yeah, yeah, nap it up, lazy bums. I'd better go take over monitor duty. Tek, you…?"

He trailed off on his way to the door. Tek had collapsed into one of the lobby's waiting chairs. Her funeral dress formed a coal-black mountain of fabric as she curled her knees to her chest. She squeaked softly, her shoulders shaking, her face lost in the folds of her skirt. A soft touch on her arm did nothing to rouse her from the ball she had become.

Beast Boy sat in the chair next to hers. He laced his fingers into her clammy, limp grasp. "Hey, it's okay," he said, and felt his own eyes grow warm as he tried to smile. "It's okay. You might want to take it easy, though. You've been at it all morning, and if you don't get some Gatorade or something, you're gonna shrivel up."

A brief laugh left her skirt, followed by a choked sob. Her grasp tightened in his as she cried, "Please don't make me laugh. I don't wanna laugh right now. Kory…"

Tentatively, Beast Boy slipped his arm over her hunched shoulders. "If Kory was here, she would be the first one trying to make you smile. She'd never want anybody to cry over her, not in a million years."

"But I can't stop," wept Tek.

He hugged her sideways. "Yeah. That's okay too," he said. "I tell you what. Why don't you keep me company in Ops? I'll tell you all about the time I lubed Kory's face. It's not nearly as juicy as it sounds, but…"

Tek sniffed. Her face emerged from her skirt. Streaks of mascara curved around her weak attempt at a smile. "Thanks, Gar, but I just…"

With a nod and a pat to her shoulder, Beast Boy stood. "No expiration date on that offer, Tek. Come find me anytime, huh?" He left with an encouraging smile that died as soon as he turned around.

The sound of her own sniffling kept Tek company in the lobby. She wanted to get up. Part of her desperately needed to go to Ops and take Beast Boy up on his offer. But she felt exhausted and empty, and she couldn't stop crying. It shamed her that Beast Boy, Raven, and Bushido had been forced to make up for her slack at the service, answering questions and shaking hands while she blubbered like a child.

A small ember of anger seethed behind her tears. She wasn't the only one her friends had been forced to cover for at the service.

Her sniffles and sobs quelled, and her tears stemmed to a trickle. Tek stood on wobbly legs that pushed her into Sector Prime. She brushed at the snot stains on her skirt as she searched the cavernous hall. She could have asked Sarah where to find him, but she decided to look for herself. She wanted the time to try and plug her eyes.

As bad luck would have it, Tek found him on her first try. The door to the Mainframe rolled aside, revealing Cyborg half-merged with the central interface console. His data jack rested in the computer port. A bushel of cords stretched from the processing cores behind him to a panel opened on the metal half of his scalp. Cyborg stared into space while the massive array of screens before him flickered with an endless binary jumble.

The sight of Cyborg cybered to his computers made the ember in Tek flare. She gripped the door frame and watched him blur behind a fresh wave of tears. "Still working?" she asked in a small voice.

"Upgrades to the Alert system," he said distractedly, "starting with our security systems. I've been meaning to add some extra redundancy layers in our monitor systems so we don't miss anything."

She swallowed a harsh comment and said, "It was visual sensor strips this morning. It couldn't wait?"

He didn't turn at the bitter tang in her tone. "No time like the present," he said matter-of-factly. "The longer I wait, the more vulnerable we are."

Her knuckles on the door frame whitened. "It was a really pretty service. The church was done up in green and purple flowers. You should have seen it," she said, excruciatingly neutral.

"Look, Tek," he said brusquely, "I'd love to talk about it, but I'm a little busy. After I'm done here, I need to take the CUTTER to S.T.A.R. Labs. Doctor Brown asked me to take a look at their new security plans for the renovations they're putting in. As long as they have to do so much construction, we might as well plug a few holes."

"Doctor Brown made it to the service too," Tek told him. "She didn't look like she was gonna get back to work for a while. The accident—"

Cyborg spun in his chair, nearly pulling the cords from his head. His data jack remained in the console, forcing him to twist around to glare at Tek. "It was no accident," he snapped.

Tek tried to glare back. She couldn't tell through her tears if it was having any effect. "Yes, it was," she said.

"Labs don't just explode!" barked Cyborg. "That doesn't happen, not even to us. This has 'Tyrant' written all over it. They found out where she was, and they…" His face condensed into a single, furious point. Then it relaxed into stony determination. "We're gonna beef up security. We're gonna find Ravager's hidey-hole, and I'm personally pulling him through those little eyeholes in his mask."

"Vic, don't you dare make this about revenge!" Tek cracked angrily. "Kory wouldn't—"

Cyborg turned back to his binary jumble, knocking back Tek's words with his shoulder. "Kory's dead. We're not. So get busy being useful, or go cry somewhere else. I got work to do." He settled into his seat and twisted his data jack. The numbers on the screen flew.

She lost sight of Cyborg through the hot tide that swept her face. Choking down a sob, Tek fled from the door.

A tired, miserable face reflected back at Cyborg through the flashing numbers of the screen. He pushed through it with a glare and poured himself into the data.

* * *

Hours passed. Or maybe years. Or maybe minutes.

Starfire's tears ran dry. The shadows of the trees began creeping across the sand. The warmth of the sun fell dim when the shadows grasped her. Purples and pinks gathered in the sky in anticipation of the sunset.

Chills swam through her chalky skin. Her throat cracked with thirst, and her emptiness pulled hardest in her stomach. The tide had begun to climb the beach. In twenty minutes, she would be soaked. Inside an hour, she would be underwater. She had to move.

Blackfire wanted to kill her. Why? Because of what happened before with the Centaurans? Her sister had a temper, even a mean streak, but Blackfire had never struck her as sororicidal before. Blackfire had never struck her at all before they had reunited on Earth.

The rush of the tide grew louder. She had to move. Struggling, Starfire flopped upon her stomach and tried pushing herself up. When that failed, she tried moving at all. Her arms and legs drew an angelic shape in the sand, but failed to move her in the slightest. She was stuck, and she hurt with the effort.

Where were her friends? How had Blackfire stolen her from her sickbed in the first place? Surely the others had been keeping her at the Tower, in the Medbay, keeping watch over her. Hadn't they? They had to be searching for her.

Everything hurt. Half a year of invalidity had left her as little more than a golden burlap sack filled with bones. There was no boundless confidence in her arms. Her righteous fury couldn't produce a single spark in her fingertips. When she closed her eyes, all she could picture was Robin's life gushing from the wound she had blasted through him.

She had killed Robin. Now she would die. On a nameless beach. And be forgotten.

She clawed. Her fingers raked the sand without moving her. She clawed again. Her arms trembled just to draw wavy trails at either side of her body. She could hardly lift her face from the ground. But the water lapped closer, so she clawed again.

After five tries, Starfire's efforts won her a mote of success. She turned her face toward the jungle, pointing her feet at the ocean. Pivoting had exhausted her. She gasped, drawing in equal parts sand and air.

Water kissed her toes, and then ran away. It came back again, suckling at her feet. Starfire lifted her face out of the beach and willed her arms above her head. They shambled ahead of her like two stickly prongs and plunged their tines into the sand. Groaning, she dragged her arms back to her sides. The beach moved with her arms, inching beneath her with every push, as heavy as anything she had ever moved.

Sand crawled into her mouth and up her nose. It clung to her teary cheeks. It pushed into every nook of her naked body, until everything inside and out felt gritty. She sputtered and pushed on.

In centimeterous increments, Starfire crossed the beach. She made little better time than the tide. Twice, the sand gagged her until she had to stop and turn her head to the side so she could vomit it out. Empty bile spattered her arms and sides as she clawed through it. But she pushed on.

Her hands struck underbrush, startling her with solid ground. Her skin, which had once batted away bullets, which had laughed at impact and energy alike, broke as she wrapped her hands around the wiry plants. Blood slicked the brush, making her hands slip. She cut herself again with a tighter grip and hauled her chest into the brush, scraping herself raw.

Starfire wheezed and bled. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream for help. All her body could do now was pass out with half of it still hanging over the beach. Her face collapsed into the brush, whisking her into blissful blackness.

As she slipped away, she wished to wake again at home, even at the cost of another six months. She wished for someone who could help her. She wished for Robin. X'Hal, but she would do anything to see him once more. Just once more.

* * *

The coffee table completed a full flip before plowing into the plasma screen of their obscenely large monitor window. The twenty-foot screen cracked as the table shattered against it, raining to the floor in the startled silence of the room.

Billy Numerous poked his head up over the back of the couch in triplicate. He and his duplicates exchanged confused looks, and then gaped at the huffing, twisted, armed and armored teen looming in the ruins of their entertainment center. "Uh, weren't that 'good' news, Boss?" one of the Billys ventured with a squeak.

Parked on the couch with an emery board, Shimmer shaped her cuticles with little regard for Ravager's latest temper tantrum. "Ego trip in three…two…" she murmured.

Ravager grasped a surround-sound speaker mounted on a pole behind him. His glare was planted firmly in the center Billy's head protruding from behind the couch. "Good? **Good**? Their little alien bitch is dead because of some freak accident!" he bellowed.

He wrenched the speaker from its mounting and flung it in one motion. The speaker struck the center Billy before he could duck. Its corner shattered his visor and drove him to the ground. Blood trickled from his slackened mouth.

The remaining duplicates exchanged looks as Ravager grasped the speaker's twin on the other side of the entertainment center. Both ducked fully behind the couch. "But Boss!" one exclaimed.

"I thought we was all about Titans dyin'. Ain't we?" the other one asked.

Further back in Ops, at the kitchenette, Gizmo rocked on his perch atop the counter and watched the tirade. He glanced down at Mammoth, who rummaged through the refrigerator in a vain search, and muttered, "Crabager's on the warpath again."

"What'd you expect?" Mammoth grunted from inside the fridge. Another speaker crashed against the wall behind him as he settled on a container of questionable chicken wings. "If anybody but him even sneezes at the twerps, he loses it. Hey, these look moldy to you?" he asked, and offered up the Major Cluck container.

"She was supposed to get better!" screamed Ravager.

Gizmo eyed the wings, and then shrugged. "Fuzz won't kill you," he said sagely. Mammoth had already eaten three of the wings regardless.

The two Billy duplicates scampered back from Ravager's furious approach. The Tyrant's face twisted until it was an unrecognizable mask of rage that burned bright red. "If I wanted her dead, I could have blown her up myself! She was supposed to get better and rejoin the Titans so I could kill her there!"

"Big frikkin' difference," Shimmer muttered.

A knife plunged into the couch, nicking Shimmer's coppery hair. She jerked away and glared furiously at Ravager. The air around her wavered as he lowered his hand and snapped, "I told you all from the beginning what our mission was: to destroy the Teen Titans, completely, body and soul. If you can't see the difference between that and blowing up a bedridden vegetable, then you need to leave."

"At least then maybe we'd pull some decent jobs," Gizmo called from the kitchen, pulling Ravager's glare as a result. The impish tinkerer hopped from the counter and waded upstream through Ravager's fury. "We haven't done squat in weeks, 'cept for some B and E on the QT. What happened to ruling the city? I miss the flash and pizzazz."

Ravager quivered with restraint. "Our latest plan is taking time to—"

"Our latest plan is balls," Mammoth said with a spray of breaded chicken. He jabbed an empty bone at Ravager, and said, "All this sneaking around and planning and goofy shit and head-game BS is a waste of time. We got the Titans outnumbered almost two-to-one now…"

"More," the Billy duplicates harmonized, and split apart as proof.

"We should just take them in a straight fight. Unless you're too chicken to take 'em. And you know what I do to chickens?" Mammoth rumbled. He chomped on the chicken bone, grinding it down. A pained swallow punctuated his point.

Ravager's scowl cooled into steel. "I told you a long time ago what you would have to do to lead this team. Are you interested in trying?" Pointed silence followed the question. Mammoth's brow dipped into his eyes as Ravager said, "Then shut your food-hole before something else stupid falls out of it."

He stalked toward the door through Gizmo's and Mammoth's shared glare. As he neared the double doors, they opened, revealing Jinx and a short, frail, cloaked figure hidden in the shadow of a large hood. Two large, red eyes pierced the hood's shadow to watch Ravager storm toward them.

"And this is Ops. Pretty much everything happens here," Jinx told the cloaked boy. Looking in, she smiled upon seeing Ravager. Then she yelped and sidestepped his plowing shoulder as he shoved through. Sneering, Jinx said snidely, "And that's our asshole leader pitching a fit about something. Watch out for that."

Ravager whirled and stalked back upon her. "You think you're funny?" he snapped.

Coolly, she retorted, "I think I just wanted to give Kid Wykkid here a little warning. It's a good idea to steer clear of you when you're manstruating like this. Just like it's a good idea not to take your pissy little temper tantrums out on me," she added with hex in her eyes.

Shaking, infuriated, he clenched his jaw to quash his next sentence. Doing so might have spared him a month of sleeping on a couch. "Just get Wykkid up to speed," he hissed, piercing Wykkid's glassy red gaze with a glare. "And find our other new recruit while you're at it. It's time we made some real progress before someone else kills the remaining Titans."

Jinx watched him stomp down the hall. Her annoyance bested her judgment, and she called, "And what are you gonna do, Grant?"

"Vent my pissy little temper before I ventilate my piss-poor excuse for a team," he snapped as he disappeared around the corner.

* * *

It was dark when Starfire awoke. The air had cooled and thickened, as though the pounding ocean behind her had seeped into each salty breath scraping her throat. Her tongue was a huge, dry sponge pressing against her cracked gums.

She rolled herself over, expelling the last of her sweat with the effort. Gasping, she stared at the black expanse of the ocean that stretched into eternity. Pinpricks of light hovered over the black ocean with motionless certainty, a galaxy of lights that swept through half of the expanse with brilliance greater than Starfire had seen since landing on Earth.

The stars were too bright. There were no people, no lights, and no moon. Blackfire had told the truth. Starfire was alone, and she would die.

She didn't scream this time. Even if she wanted to, her voice was powder grinding in her throat. She grasped the roots of the tree next to her and tried to stand, but her legs couldn't feel her. They twitched behind her like stumps. So she reached out with her scabbed hands and dug into the underbrush.

She dragged herself forward. A gasp hissed through her teeth as the wiry plants tore her skin. Her breasts ached and bled against the rough ground. She couldn't lift her chest for more than a second before her weight overcame her. She reached and pulled, swimming through the brush and the little flecks of blood she left.

The brush softened on her seventh or eighth stroke. She entered a jungle, and paused for air. As her dry heaves quieted, she heard a chorus of strange songs, shrill, long and haunting and crossing paths. The songs were sung by denizens that hid behind a curtain of leaves above her. Other creatures joined in with bass rumblings. It was deafening and terrifyingly quiet at the same time.

Compared to the beach scrub, the jungle brush poured underneath her. She crawled, her fingers sinking into the soft soil. Whether by instinct or accident, she began to follow a cool sensation. A slight drop of temperature pulled her deeper into the jungle and its song.

Hours later, her hand struck water and sank into mud. She pulled her face from the rotting leaves and saw a pool of floating muck before her. Large fronds masked the edge of a lone watering hole in the center of the secret jungle. Things floated in the muck, strange and terrible mysteries that Starfire couldn't bring herself to consider.

Her other hand sank into the mud as she pulled herself up and plunged her face through the greenish-brown skin of the pool. It tasted wretched. Unspeakably so. She drank until her stomach threatened to split. Then she burst from the water with a gasp and propped herself in the rank pool. Her lanky hair twisted down her shoulders to bob around her.

Water dripped off her chin. In the quiet din of the jungle, her thoughts caught up to her. She remembered where she should be, which made where she was all the more apparent. Her Tower may as well have been beyond the farthest of those stars above her. She was trapped in a strange jungle, with only an executioner promised to return for her.

A curious pressure climbed her legs.

She twisted around. Her ear plunged into the water as she looked back. Her useless legs were entwined in a thick, mottled vine. In the faint light, she saw the surface of the vine ripple. The head of the vine slid over her knee and up her thigh, its tongue flickering at her. Its eyes glistened with indifference. Dimly, Starfire wondered if it wasn't a vine.

The python wound around her stomach slowly, dipping through the soggy soil to encircle her. She pushed at its thick coils, but her arms hadn't the strength. Her legs choked in pain as the python constricted her with methodical progression. The tight feeling rolled up her body beneath its coils. Quickly after, numbness prickled.

_Let the snake eat you._ It was Blackfire's voice echoing in her head, purring, malevolent, barely audible even in her own thoughts. _You'll die anyway. It's almost over now. Just lie back and let the hurting stop._

As her vision tunneled, Starfire saw the snake's head bobbing above her. It stared at her, its eyes glinting through the night. Its eyes were black and empty. Blackfire's eyes were black and empty.

She reached up and grasped the snake behind its head. It hissed and bit her arm. Its body tensed, making her bones creak like stressed, dried wood. She held the snake and stared into its empty eyes. Blackfire's voice laughed inside her head.

Righteous fury filled Starfire's arm. She gathered it in her hand and clenched. The snake screamed with a hiss as its scales smoldered under her grasp. It thrashed, releasing her to kick up a spray of putrid water.

Starfire held on. Her fury sharpened with an influx of breath. Her eyes held those of the snake prisoner. In its final moments, the snake showed her fear in its empty eyes before they burst and oozed with a hot green glow.

Her hand clenched into a fist. The scales and flesh caught between crumbled to ash. The snake's head tumbled free, splashing beneath the muck of the water. Its body fell limp around her.

Starfire took up the snake's body. Its scales glinted in green light. Narrowing her glare, she split its body open with a flash, cutting a steaming seam of meat from its scales. Still scowling, she tore into it with her teeth. The jungle sang for her as she ate.

* * *

Tek awoke with tears already in her eyes. She rolled over, feeling them trickle across her face as she stared out the window. Morning glinted off the tall buildings of the city, filling her floor-to-ceiling window with promise. The golden radiance only made her want to cry more.

Feet of lead dragged her out of bed. Wooden arms pulled and donned a terrycloth pink robe from her closet. She moved as if on autopilot, still awakening on her feet. She fought the waking world, trying to make it a nightmare instead. Then she could wake for real, and the last few days would have been nothing but a bad dream.

But instead of changing her world into dream, she lumbered down the hall with a towel draped over her shoulder. She relied on memory to guide her as she rubbed her drooping eyes. A night of fitful sleep had done little to rejuvenate her. Her whole face hurt after days and days of uncontrollable blubbering.

She reached the bathroom door, which opened to let her knock her head against Cyborg's chest. She stumbled back, surprised and pained, clutching her forehead. Her eyes watered harder as she looked up to find Cyborg's grim expression. "Vic…?"

"Sorry. 'Scuse me," he mumbled, and tried to sidle past her through the narrow door.

She stopped him with a hand on the door frame. "Vic, wait. I wanna talk about this," she said.

Cyborg brushed her hand aside and stepped past her, pushing her back. "No time, Tek. The new stun fields keep knocking out whatever comes within three feet of the building. Right now, we've got a whole mess of squirrels and birds taking a nap in a big ring around the yard. I need to fix it before we accidentally zap ourselves into a PETA lawsuit."

Tek recoiled at the brush-off. She clutched her towel, and blurted, "Waffles! I'll…I'll make us waffles. Well, the instant kind. But I'll put 'em in the toaster and heat up the syrup. Just…have breakfast with me. You've been working for three days strai—"

He turned the corner. "I'm busy," he called.

Tek slumped against the door frame with a sigh. She stared down the empty hall, hugging her towel to her robed chest. Alone, she slunk into the bathroom, shucked her robe, and turned a shower stall to as hot as her body could stand.

As she scalded herself awake, she felt the water trickle over her scalp and down her face, following a familiar path her tears had carved into her cheeks. She was tired of crying. She was tired of being tired of crying. But every time she thought of Starfire, or even something that reminded her of Starfire, she felt her aching eyes well up with fresh sorrow. The hurt wouldn't go away. She couldn't make it stop.

She left the shower without soaping. As she closed the stall behind her, the bathroom door opened, this time admitting Bushido wearing nothing but a towel. Tek shrieked and dove drippingly into her robe before his first step struck the misty tile.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully.

Scraggly bangs did little to mask her beet-red embarrassment as she cinched her robe. "Good morning," she mumbled.

Unabashed, Bushido swept the towel from his waist and hung it on the wall. He stretched, spreading the sculpted muscle of his body on display. Tek's gaze fled into a mirror as he sauntered into a shower stall and blasted himself with steaming hygiene.

Tek fiddled with her toothbrush. Her blush faded as her eyes followed him in the mirror. A bracing, lilting tune hummed in his stall, pausing when he collected soap in his hand. He scrubbed and hummed cheerily, mesmerizing Tek. Her toothbrush fell into step with his song, swishing as he scrubbed.

Eventually, Bushido noticed her stare in the mirror. He paused his song and set his soap aside, and leaned on the top of the stall door to grin at her. "Shall I open the door so you can watch? Customarily, though, I believe that requires some form of restitution. Or reciprocity," he said teasingly.

Tek embodied the color red. Her eyes dropped into the sink. "Sorry," she said around her toothbrush. She spat, rinsed, and noticed that he hadn't stopped smiling at her. "I wasn't… I was just wondering, is all," she said lamely.

"Rest assured," he said somberly through his widening smile, "the rumors do not do it justice."

"No!" she said quickly. "Not that. I was just wondering how anybody could feel so happy after…" Her blush faded. Her eyes swirled in the sink, following her toothpaste down. "But I guess it's not really that surprising. Kory wasn't your friend, was she?"

Bushido resumed soaping himself with a thoughtful expression. "We could best be described as 'professional adversaries.' But I respect who she was and how much her friends cared for her." He snapped his soapy fingers in sudden remembrance. "What color was her blood?"

"Um…red," Tek said. Bushido nodded while she struggled for words. "I just…I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. Every other minute I start crying like a baby 'cause she's gone, and she's never coming back, and… I just don't know how to deal with that, y'know?" Her voice crumbled as a familiar sting ran from her eyes.

He nodded. Then he said, "No. Death is…different for me. It does not mean to me what it might to others."

"…because you used to be a murderer?" she asked between thick hiccups.

"'Alleged' murderer," he said with soap in his eyes. Rinsing his face, he emerged from the water to find Tek weeping once more. She sat against the sink, the shoulder of her robe sliding down her arm, with fat tears slithering down her cheeks.

He had seen many tears from many people. Tek's were different. They meant something. "This is really bothering you, isn't it?" he asked, barely audible over the spray of the shower.

She swiped her nose with the sleeve of her robe. "You're a real detective," she wheezed.

He set his jaw and nodded, and kneaded shampoo into his hair. "Go and get dressed. Meet me in my room in ten minutes," he told her.

Sniffily she asked, "Why?"

Bushido grinned impishly through a mask of suds. "I want to show you my sword."

* * *

A heavy scent, dripping with fat, took Raven by the nose and pulled her into the Commons. She wafted into the sunny room to find it nearly empty. The source of the scent sat on the island counter, inches from a beacon of gloominess whose face rested nigh-parallel to the countertop.

She stopped in the doorway, watching the plate of bacon cool next to Beast Boy's head. Years of experience smelling his vegetarian substitutes led her to a startling conclusion about the bacon. Hesitantly, she asked, "That's real, isn't it? Not tofu."

Beast Boy didn't move. His shaggy hair obscured his expression, but there was no mistaking his aura. "Real," he grunted.

"Ah." Raven circled around him, keeping a curious eye on him on her way to the fridges. She poured herself a glass of juice and, when she turned back, found Beast Boy still a lump on his stool. She sipped her juice with a contemplative look over the glass's rim. "Did someone make it and leave it?" she asked.

"No. I made it," he mumbled.

"Ah," she said again.

The juice vanished from her glass. Her stomach rumbled harder in gratitude. She returned to the fridge and began rifling through its contents. Stacks of Tupperware collected on the counter next to Beast Boy's head as she mined their leftovers.

She pulled a loaf of bread out and closed the fridge with her foot. Standing opposite Beast Boy at the island counter, she laid a foundation of bread onto a plate. "They must have revised the Food Wheel. Are pork products considered a fruit now, or are they a grain?"

He grasped the back of his head with his hand, rolling his face further into the counter. "I wasn't gonna eat it. I hate that stuff. Think I might throw up. Smells…"

Cold roast beef and salami climbed aboard Raven's growing sandwich. She laid them thick, and said, "Understandable. I like to cook and loiter around food that makes me nauseous too."

Beast Boy's gaze finally climbed off of the counter, crawling onto the plate. He folded his hands under his chin as he stared at the glistening bacon. "When I was four, my parents got the opportunity of a lifetime to research a disease in Africa. A real bugger called 'Sakutia.' The only problem was, they had a kid they'd have to drag along. A kid who wouldn't get to go to kindergarten, or watch cartoons, or play with other kids like he always had."

"I'll take a wild guess that you were the little kid," Raven said, and carpeted her sandwich in lettuce and tomato.

"The day we left, we had breakfast at a pancake house." Beast Boy poked at the plate. "The whole meal, I wouldn't stop crying. Didn't eat a bite. Finally, my dad stole the bacon off my plate. When I looked up, I saw him smiling at me with this big, greasy, wavy bacon mustache stuck to his lip with maple syrup. So I tug on mom's leg to tattle on dad for playing with his food. Only mom's wearing an even bigger mustache made from my other bacon."

Raven said nothing. She watched his tepid face slide into a grin as he stared at the cooling bacon. Her sandwich grew a layer of swiss in the silence.

"I laughed so hard that I forgot why I was sad. They let me steal their mustaches. Then they told me that, even though we were moving far away from everything else, we'd always have everything we need, 'cause we'd always have each other."

Raven slathered horse radish and mayonnaise over her sandwich. She felt the ether around them lighten, as though his smile were casting out the gloom. Deli slices of ham joined her sandwich as she drawled, "That sounds…"

"—corny," he said, and grinned harder. "I know. It was the last time we really sat down as a family before…shoomp. Green," he said, and waved a hand over his face.

He poked the bacon across the plate. His grin sobered. "That greasy, smelly bacon was the only thing I ate all day. I never forgot how it smelled."

Gazing with him at the bacon, she murmured, "Sweet. I was going to say that it sounded sweet." She let the moment settle, and then pointed to the plate, and asked, "So, you aren't going to eat it?"

"Huh? Oh. Go ahead," he said, and sat up from the counter. "I guess I can't really complain if I already cooked it. Besides, if it cheers up someone else, that's, like, twice the mileage out of one serving of animal cruelty."

She laid the bacon in place, and then smothered it with ketchup. "It's fried animal fat, not an antidepressant."

Beast Boy scoffed. "Right. Doesn't matter anyway. Can't get tears from a stone," he said, and shot her a sardonic look.

"That's 'blood.' And what are you implying?" she asked, and added pickle slices.

"Oh, nothing," he said with a smarmy air. "I'm just super-impressed with your ability to cope. After all, you lost your boyfriend and your best friend in the space of a few weeks, and you couldn't be happier. Raven-happy, I mean, not people-happy." He chucked his fist with faux cheer, and exclaimed, "Hey, after this, how about we grab a cup of coffee and go watch puppies get put down at the pound?"

Raven mashed thick, raw onion slices onto her sandwich. Her eye twitched as she looked up at him from beneath knotted brows. "So what you're telling me, in your own brain-damaged way, is that you want me to be upset? Maybe you'd feel better if I broke a few light bulbs."

His arms exploded above his head. "Yes! Blow up some light bulbs! Make the coffee maker puke up horrible goo from Dimension X! Hell, call me an idiot!" His voice and face cracked as he leaned upon the counter. "Raven, the guy you loved got skewered. Believe me, I know how much it sucks when you lose someone like Tar…I mean, like him," he said, trailing off.

Gouda joined the sandwich with a swat of Raven's hand. "If you think I'm going to fall apart because some abhorrent nihilist made a fool of me, then you're stupidly mistaken. And you need to stop projecting your own feelings onto my situation. They couldn't be more different."

"But what about Kory?" Beast Boy insisted. "I mean, I woke up this morning, and I just started crying. For, like, ten minutes! Just lying on my bed, sobbing, hugging my teddy b—uh, pillow. And I didn't figure out until about halfway through that it was because today was my day to visit Kory. I don't ever get to see her again, or talk to her again. Why doesn't that hurt you too? She was your best friend," he said, filling his scowl with fresh tears.

She sprayed her sandwich with a handful of baby spinach leaves. Her trembling hand made the sandwich slouch to one side. "Koriand'r had been a vegetable for the last six months, Garfield. I made peace with the fact that she was gone a long time ago. And even if I hadn't—even if she woke up a day before the accident—I still wouldn't be beating my chest and wailing."

Beast Boy shrank back at the cold volume of her voice. "Raven…"

"This is the way the world works, Garfield," she said between swipes of her mustardy knife. "The people we care about never stay. You and I and everyone else in this place know that better than anyone. Family, friends…lovers, all temporary. You cherish them while they're here, and accept it when they're gone, because nothing you do will keep them here."

"Raven…"

"What?" she snapped with more challenge than she meant.

Beast Boy watched her with a retort poised on his lips. His face held something tragic as he swallowed his words and slackened his prickly posture. Sighing, he nodded down at her plate, and asked in a defeated tone, "You planning on eating that, or living in it?"

She glanced down with a start. Her sandwich was over half a foot high, and still had no top. Her stomach gurgled in anticipation of the monstrous pile of food even as she backed away. Her cloak closed around her to shield her from the gastrointestinal nightmare she had forged. "I was…hungry. Excuse me," she said, and swept out the door.

Her heavy scent lingered after her departure. Beast Boy let it fill him in lieu of the bacon's smell, which was hopelessly lost in her sandwich. Something about Raven's lingering presence soothed the ache that Starfire's absence had left in him. He settled his head onto his folded arms on the counter and swam in her scent, if only for a moment.

* * *

Fragrance cushioned Bushido's room, curling from an altar built low on his wall. The shades were drawn to bathe them in faint darkness. Everything looked and felt softer to Tek, save for her knees, which complained about how she knelt on the hardwood floor.

She had never been inside Bushido's room before. But if asked to draw it beforehand, Tek believed she might have sketched exactly this. It was simple to the point of bare. His bed, curtains, and walls were white. He had no pictures, a nightstand with no clock, and a bookcase filled with volumes titled in languages Tek didn't recognize.

Bushido knelt next to her on a mat of woven reeds, which she coveted at the moment. His eyes were closed, his face, relaxed. A black sheath lay across his knees, balanced by his hands. The crisp keikogi over his wiry frame rose and fell with even, practiced breathing. He gave her curiosity—and discomfort—no notice as he lifted the sheath.

The hilt rested in his palm, married to his hand as though the two were made for one another. He drew the katana halfway, revealing its perfectly polished blade. Tek saw her puffy red eyes in its reflection as he held it up. "This is the sword of the Bushido," he said. "It was forged over six hundred years ago by an unknown smith. It never requires sharpening. It can cut through nearly any material, provided the wielder is strong enough."

"It's…nice?" Tek said.

He unsheathed it fully and placed it on the altar. The katana rested in a set of grooves, balanced so its edge faced up. "It has been passed down through the ages to be wielded by the greatest warrior of each generation. Countless enemies have fallen beneath its edge. It has spilled the blood of kings, nobles, emperors, highwaymen, vagabonds, villains, monsters, demons, heroes…"

She grimaced. "So it's not nice. It's an heirloom? Like family jewels, but if they killed people?"

"Not family. Not…precisely." Bushido opened his eyes to gaze upon the blade. It stared back at him with his own eyes. "The sword is passed from wielder to wielder. He who best exemplifies its virtues. He becomes its avatar. The sword chooses one who becomes the Bushido, who then uses it as he sees fit."

Tek's grimace glistened with confused sorrow. "Ry, what does this have to do with anything? I don't understand."

Bushido hesitated, startling Tek. She had never known him to hesitate for anything. "When a Bushido dies, his soul joins with the blade. He forever becomes a part of it, empowering and guiding the next wielder of the katana," he explained. "When I die, my soul will enter the blade to join with my ancestors."

"You…believe you're going to go into a sword when you die?" Tek's incredulity choked her tears to a trickle.

He lowered his head. "No. I _know_ I will enter the blade upon my death. It is fact. 'Belief' is what the rest of the world must contend with," he said.

"I don't understand."

Bushido closed his eyes and listened to the haunting silence of his blade. "The question of death has been around since humanity's first spark of cognizance. Do we end? Do we cease to be when our bodies can no longer sustain us? Or is death merely the beginning of something new?

"Death is the question we must all grapple with. To some, the end is more important than anything else: what happens after, and where do we go? They pray, and worship, and search, and posit, all without proof. Among them are the fools, the gullible, and the truly devout."

He touched the hilt upon the altar, running his hand along the rough wrapping of the grip. "To others, the particulars are most important: how will I die, and to what end. These people work, and strive, in their search for meaning. They leave their mark in their actions, the lucky ones, to a greater end.

"Still others avoid the question altogether. Hedonists, humanists, they try to live each day to its fullest, some for themselves, some for others. They never question or consider the end, for that is what they believe it to be. The end."

Tek watched his contemplation of the sword. She had never thought of it as more than a weapon. Seeing Bushido now, she wondered if he ever thought of it as a weapon at all. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked.

Bushido looked up. The amber in his eyes shone with breathtaking depth. "I know where I will go when I die. In that, I am unique. The fate of every other soul on the planet is a mystery no one should know. In the end, we must simply believe."

"But believe what?" Tek insisted. "All that stuff you were talking about…hedonists, and faith, and prayer. What am I supposed to believe? That Kory's okay somewhere else? That she made a difference, and that's enough? That's not enough! What am I supposed to believe?" she shouted through tears.

He blinked. "I wish I could say." Then he asked, "What did Starfire believe?"

"I…" The edge in Tek's voice dulled. She sank back onto her heels, and admitted, "I don't really know."

Bushido studied her lost face. He sighed. "I apologize. I suspected that I would be of little help. I just…do not like to see you cry," he said.

She rose unsteadily, smudging her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Nobody does. My face gets all puffy," she said with an empty laugh. Straightening, Tek bowed to Bushido and his altar with total sincerity. He returned the gesture as she said, "Thanks for telling me all that, Ry. Even if it didn't help, it…helped. Y'know?"

"Partially," he said, smiling.

As his door slid aside for her, Tek paused and looked back. He had resumed is prayer to the sword on the altar. Incense curled around him, forming ghostly patterns in the air. "Hey, Ry?" she asked. "Do your ancestors really speak to you?"

He hesitated again, making two unthinkable occurrences inside of five minutes. "They will," he said. "I am certain of it."

Tek left his room heavier with question than she had come. She stumbled with the weight back to her own room and flopped upon her unmade bed. Her face sank into the pillow, soaking it. She lay there for several motionless moments.

She lifted her head from the pillow. "Sarah?" she said to the empty room.

"_Yes, Miss Tek?_" the walls answered.

Propping herself on her soggy pillow, Tek asked, "Do we have any files on Tamaran?"

* * *

Starfire staggered, feeling disgusted with miracles. Her bare feet sank into the sand. Sunlight poured into every inch of her as she followed the edge of the surf around the island. All she found were her own footprints and some driftwood.

It was a miracle she was even alive. It was a miracle she could walk after three days of crawling through the miserable jungle. But miracles weren't going to be enough.

She could make it around the entire island now without stopping. This morning, she had climbed a tree, falling down only three times. She lifted a log by herself to eat the grubs underneath, because the threes didn't have fruit. But it wasn't going to be enough.

The surf swallowed her legs as she staggered off the shore. Crystal blue ocean stared back at her. It frothed up to her waist, pushing her back toward the shore. She ignored the ocean's hand and dove underwater.

Even at her strongest, Starfire had barely equaled Blackfire. Their last battle had been decided more by surprise than Starfire cared to admit. Blackfire had always possessed an edge that Starfire lacked. It wasn't power. It wasn't skill. It was something else. And Starfire was far from her strongest at the moment.

She swam down until the light struggled to catch up. The island became a murky shape behind her kicking legs. Her lungs emptied in a bubbling burst. Cold seawater filled her, dragging her lower until the surface was a shimmering ceiling far above her. Her body grew cold to match the depths.

She didn't need to breathe anymore. She liked to. Earth had so many wonderful smells. But with enough starlight, she and her people could metabolize their own energy without an atmosphere.

Miracles weren't enough. She needed more. So she drew her thumbnail through one of the scabs on her arm. A red cloud puffed from the cut. She held it out and bled into the water, and waited.

Her patience was rewarded an hour later with a dark shape cutting through the murk. As it came closer, it gained eyes, and teeth in impressive numbers. It started out huge and only grew as it swam closer. White and gray filtered into its skin. It came straight at her, driving through the water like a torpedo.

Starfire bobbed in place and swept the hair floating in her face. The shark glared at her with hateless hunger as it opened its razor maw. She glared back, spreading her arms. A faint glow filled the depths, turning the shark green.

The shark crushed her shoulder. Blood plumed from its jaws, all of it hers. She rolled in its teeth as it thrashed her back and forth. Her skin tore. She grit her teeth, refusing to scream.

Blackfire had an edge. Starfire needed to close the gap. She needed her strength. She needed her confidence. The shark could give her that, if she survived.

Her teeth split for a bubbly snarl as she grasped the side of the shark. Her free hand gathered into a point. Grinding in the shark's jaws, she reached and plunged her knifed hand into its eye.

The shark flailed, releasing her in a froth of red. As it swam away, she lashed out and caught its tail. Her grasp crushed the cartilage of its fin and wrenched her along with it. The shark writhed in a corkscrew path while she climbed its body, piercing handholds in its rubbery skin.

She grasped its dorsal fin and focused her mortal rage into her hand. Green light boiled the water around her fist. She drove her hand into the shark and released the rage, which burst out the other side in a geyser of roiling redness.

The shark fell limp. She dangled from its side, her fist stuck in its scorched innards. Their blood churned together in the dark water, made black by the glow of her eyes. She shook the lightheadedness from her thoughts and pulled her hand free. Her glowing touch seared the gushing of her skin, suturing her wounds shut.

Kicking her legs, she pushed the shark's body toward the island. She moved through the water with greater speed than before, regardless of the great white bulk she pushed. As they reached the shore, she lifted the creature bodily and swung two thousand pounds of ocean killer over her head.

Her entire side screamed where the shark had bit her. She vomited the seawater from her lungs, and then smiled grimly.

The shark had taken blood and flesh from her, enough of both to kill any earthling. But it had given her much more. From their contest, Starfire had unbound her confidence. If she could best Earth's most perfect killing machine, she stood a ghost of a chance against her sister.

She dropped the shark onto the sand and grasped its jaws. She already had her confidence. Now she needed more.

* * *

Twilight colored the grass bright orange, and made a giant of Tek's shadow. She bent low to the ground to shake the last of her bag empty. Flower petals of every imaginable color spilled from the bag, completing the small circle she drew in the lawn. This time the wind didn't carry the petals away.

Tek knelt heavily in the middle of the circle and wiped her cheeks dry. She set the bag outside of the circle and faced the sun, closing her bloodshot eyes. The warm sunset glowed through her eyelids.

"Okay. Here goes," she murmured. With a heavy sigh, she began to regulate her breathing. She straightened her back and rested her hands on her knees, and concentrated on an image she had memorized from the Archives. She wanted to get this right.

"Mighty X'Hal," she murmured, bowing her head. "I beseech thee. I come before you humbly, bathed in the light of the brightest star, enfolded in a ring of the life with which you bless us. May you always know victory, yet never grow complacent. May you always remain mighty, yet forget not us, your disciples, your warriors, your children."

Tek paused. Most of their information on Tamaranian religion had come from Starfire, who hadn't said much on the subject. "Um…sorry I couldn't find a fresh Glorg for the circle. I thought of getting some steaks or something from the butchers', but I figured 'all or nothing,' y'know? Besides, animal sacrifice is a little _yearg_ for my first…uh, yeah."

She cracked her eye. Nothing had changed.

"Anyway, I know you're busy. God of a planet, right? And I don't know if you listen to humans. Actually, I don't know if you can even hear me. Or if you're real." Blowing an impatient breath, she added, "And really, is a carcass going to improve prayer reception, or what? Do you get more bars with more blood?

"Sorry. Sorry. I just…I'm upset." Her eyes grew hot and wet beneath their lids. She huffed, and said, "No. I'm mad. I'm mad at Kory for never waking up. I'm mad at myself for crying like a little baby. And I'm really mad at you. Everything I read about you and your…your 'type' says that you have a plan for everybody.

"So, I gotta wonder, is it 'cause of you that she's gone?" Tek asked in a husky voice. "Was her plan not good enough? She was happy here. We loved her. Love her. Whatever. I want my friend back, but I can't have her because you…"

Her voice broke. Tek inhaled sharply, gathering the shards back into her. They stitched back together into a throaty farce of her normal voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't come here to complain, I swear. I just…"

She sniffed, bowing her head. "Take care of her, okay? The files said you were a warrior goddess, big on battle and stuff. Well, Kory was the best at that. But she was also the nicest, coolest, friendliest person I ever met. She liked me before I even knew who I was. So I want you to take care of her. Whatever it is you do, give her your best. We both know she deserves it."

She opened one eye. "Please?" she whispered.

A gust of wind swooped over the hedge row around the Compound. Tek blinked as the wind dried her eyes. It broke the circle of petals around her, smearing color across the lawn.

Tek looked down at her spoiled circle. She would have been annoyed, but she had nothing left to say to X'Hal. Collecting the empty bag, she stood and stepped from the flowery carpet.

As she walked back to the patio, something drew her gaze up to the clouds over the city. Burnished golden radiance leapt from cloud to cloud, playing in the late evening air as the sun dwindled behind the skyline. Tek smiled at the color, and did not cry.

She pushed the patio door aside. As she entered the Commons, a hissing sound immediately pulled her to the side. Cyborg stood on a stepladder with his hand awkwardly jammed into the seam between the ceiling and the long, windowed wall. Sparks rained from his torch-lit finger. His eye remained on the task as he grunted, "Hey."

"Hey," Tek said cautiously. They hadn't spoken since the day before. "What are you doing?" she asked.

His torch extinguished. He pulled his finger from the seam and climbed down. "The security shutters were too slow. I was trying to improve the drop rate."

Pointing his arm, he triggered the shutters. Thick, riveted sheets of armor descended from the ceiling to swallow the windows. They slammed down on the floor with a thunderclap that made Tek's ears buzz. She staggered back from the shutters in deafened surprise, even as they began to rise again.

Judging by Cyborg's scowl, he wasn't satisfied with the shutters' lightning deployment, and tapped the readout on his arm. As the hologram above his wrist flashed, he asked offhandedly, "So what were you up to out there?"

"I was praying. For Kory," Tek said.

Cyborg snorted derisively. "Okay," he said.

Storm clouds gathered in Tek's tired eyes. She folded her arms, and demanded, "What?"

The shutters descended slowly for Cyborg's scrutiny to find their flaw. He tested the servos by pushing the metal sheets, and said, "Nothing. Good for you. I just prefer something a little more helpful. Unless you think all that kneeling out there'll help aerate the lawn."

Tek jutted her jaw. "Well, it helps me, even if nobody hears it. Right now it's the best I can do. Maybe you should try talking to somebody."

Tugging hard on the window shutter, Cyborg said, "And why's that, kid? Afraid I need a shrink?" He chuckled.

"No," she said coolly. "I'm afraid that after you run out of your little home improvement projects, you're gonna have to wake up and realize that none of them are gonna bring Kory back. And you're gonna realize that you never said goodbye, and missed Kory's funeral, and spent the last week being an asshole for no good reason."

Cyborg's hand dropped from the shutter. He didn't turn around.

"But you know what else?" Tek asked sharply. "Kory wouldn't be mad. She'd want you to feel better. She'd forgive you instantly, I know it. Just like I will, when you're ready."

She stepped alongside him, searching his face for any kind of sign. Cyborg still would not look at her. He stared through the rivets of the security shutter. Sighing in defeat, Tek tapped a crooked weld in the metal, and said, "You missed a spot. Better take care of it."

Tek turned away, not wanting to leave. She wanted to stay mad at Cyborg, and to say quite a bit more. She settled instead for climbing the stairs outside of the Commons. She needed sleep in the worst way. Perhaps tomorrow, things would seem better. She had to believe it was possible.

No sooner had Tek started up the stairs when Raven wandered down the hall from the opposite direction. Her hand lingered over her stomach, which gurgled at her with indecipherable demands. She glowered down, and muttered, "I wish you would make up your mind."

She reached the Commons door, already anticipating another rough trial-and-error with her touchy stomach, when a voice through the open door made her stop at its edge. "You were always a real pain in my ass. You know that?" Cyborg said, gruff and unseen.

Raven hovered at the door, perplexed. He couldn't be talking to her. Stretching herself, Raven felt a sharp despondency lingering in the room. Its edge began to dull as she listened.

"You would never let me feel bad about anything," Cyborg said. "When I got frustrated with something, you were the first one to lend a hand. And when I started getting down about…you know…you were the first one to tell me…"

He sighed. "I was always normal to you, wasn't I? We all were. It was everybody else on Earth you thought was weird. Maybe it was 'cause we found you first. Maybe that's why you liked Robin so much. He was extraordinary to you, and the rest of us were just…ordinary. That always blew me away."

His words shook. "I should have told you that. I should have told you how good you made me feel just by smiling at my ugly mug. You always knew just what to say or do to make everybody feel better. I needed that. Need that. I…"

Raven jerked back as she heard a choked sob wind through the door. She felt a cloud roll out of the Commons, making her eyes mist in sympathy. As quietly as she could, she backed away from the door, and retreated down the hall the way she came.

* * *

On the sixth day, the tiny jungle shook at the violet sting of a promise fulfilled. Thunder barked and leaves blazed. The oasis at the island's center steamed and splashed at the touch of a heavenly bolt that tore its green-brown skin open. The jungle's canopy erupted with a spray of birds that overshadowed the whole island, flapping in ignorance around the very source of the attack.

Blackfire hovered over the island. Murder spread her lips wide. She hurled another blackbolt into the jungle. The cacophony of birds around her shrieked and rippled like a living pool, flowing away from her indiscriminate wrath in a panic. She laughed at the feathery storm around her, and called, "Koriand'r? Where are you?"

She cut through the canopy, descending into the jungle amid a stream of dusty sunlight. Her eyes adjusted to the cool shade in seconds. The tiny oasis rolled gently at the foliage she knocked in, making its glossy surface dance beneath her.

"I hope you're ready," Blackfire said to the silent jungle. Even the insects had gone, leaving Blackfire to a muggy stillness she ill liked. She turned in place, floating over the water, scanning the jungle. "What can I say? I got bored. You know how I am about waiting."

The underbrush to her left jostled. Blackfire whirled and poured violet death into the greenery. It scorched and burst. The charred remains of something small and vermin-like rolled out of the crackling brush, trailing wisps of fire.

Scowling, Blackfire turned from the burning bush. "I know you're here, Koriand'r. When I left, you didn't have the strength to move. You didn't escape. And even if you could, you wouldn't run. There's still enough Tamaranian in you to ensure that much, at least.

"Earth has made you soft, little sister. I've been hanging here for almost a minute, and you've done nothing. Or do you need four monkeys charging ahead of you to muster an attack? A battle cry, maybe? Titans, GO!" she bellowed, and blasted the oasis.

The putrid water exploded into steam and rain that covered the little jungle. The air thickened and sweltered. Blackfire spun slowly, cutting the hot air with glowing eyes. Frustration curled in her lips. She clenched her fists, snuffing two more bolts that lacked a target.

But then she smiled. Amid a burst of the jungle's color, a cloud of flowers emerging from the brush, Blackfire spied a face of burnished gold. Two emeralds followed Blackfire across the water without blinking. Blackfire approached the face in the flowers and renewed her blackbolts. The quiver of the underbrush broadened Blackfire's smile.

"You're trembling, dear sister? Imagine how appalled oafish Galfore would be at his jewel, his precious little bungorf, trembling in the face of death," sneered Blackfire. "Do you want to step out of hiding, or should I just raze you along with this disgusting alien weed?"

Blackfire had closed to a dozen feet when Starfire's trembling ceased. Starfire's head shifted slightly as she released the tension that had made her arms shake. The young, lithe tree she had bent back into the underbrush snapped forward like a shot. It was a small tree of the jungle, but long and springy enough to strike the astonished Blackfire square in her smile.

Blackfire sailed back with bark in her teeth and stars in her eyes. She fell into the oasis's edge, her elbows plunging into mud. When her vision merged back into a whole, it found Starfire in mid-leap from the brush. A rope woven from vines trailed behind her. She wore another vine around her waist, and nothing more.

The vine-rope drew taut behind Starfire. She heaved, twisting her whole body against the rope as she landed. The rope's other end emerged from the brush, carrying with it a boulder in its coils. Dirt and moss sprayed from the lassoed boulder, which Starfire swung down upon Blackfire. The boulder's weight dragged Starfire forward as she reined its path.

Yelping, Blackfire rolled. Green water stank into her clothes, and then sprayed her at the boulder's landing exactly where she had been. Back on her hands and knees, Blackfire boiled the water around her hands with instinctive rage and lunged at her would-be assassin.

Starfire released the rope. She reached behind her back and broke the vine tied around her waist, drawing the crude wooden club it had held. Pearly, jagged points jutted from the club's face. Teeth. Starfire leapt into Blackfire's charge. The jungle cried with their hateful screams.

The club bit Blackfire's side. Her silver suit broke with ribbons of red that drizzled into the water at her feet. Blackfire responded with a punch that skipped Starfire across the oasis like a stone. Starfire vanished into the brush, her club shattering on a rock at the water's edge.

Blackfire clutched her side. A small lump protruded from the wound. She pinched it, hissing, and drew out a bloodied tooth. Flicking it away, Blackfire snapped, "Tricks won't save you. I chose this island because it had nothing. There's nothing here to save you."

The brush where Starfire had disappeared parted again. A monstrous horror emerged, grinning at Blackfire with bloated, gutted, clownish lips. It flew at her, staring at her with one glassy eye, trailing flies from its crooked fins. A Tamaranian warrior screamed and drove it forward.

Starfire bore the corpse of the shark like a battering ram, and thrust it into her surprised sister's face, pinning Blackfire in its rotting mouth with sheer momentum. She ran, screaming. Her hands dug into the shark's rubber flesh, spilling maggots where her nails pierced through. The shark assaulted both girls with a smell too horrible to be real, but Starfire held it fast, her face pressed to its side to watch Blackfire struggle in its empty mouth.

The jungle burst for the pair and the shark. Starfire reared up and slammed the shark's nose into the beach with Blackfire trapped between. Sand sprayed with Blackfire's shriek beneath the rotting shark. Staggering, Starfire lifted it to strike again.

A violet scream exploded the shark. Blood and sinew erupted in all directions off of Blackfire's blast. She flinched away from the splatter. As she reached up to wipe her eyes, fire clamped around her throat, searing her into arched stillness.

She looked up. Starfire loomed above her, holding her by the throat with a sizzling green hand. The warrior's fist hung above them both with a starbolt brimming through her fingers. White teeth pink with blood glistened between Starfire's curled lips.

Starfire's shoulders heaved with hate. She wasn't breathless. She was enraptured. She belonged to the moment, and she owned it: in total control, but with only one choice. Her body was weak, injured, yet it burned with life. In Starfire, Blackfire saw her own edge.

Blackfire laughed. Starfire's grip made her laughter as little more than a childish gurgle. But it stayed Starfire's death stroke with astonishment. Starfire released her prey, who fell upon the sand with ragged laughter.

"Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent, Koriand'r," Blackfire gasped. She beamed as she stood slowly. Her hands lifted in surrender, and then came together in applause. "I couldn't be more pleased."

Every tenuous muscle in Starfire's body remained tensed. Fists at her sides, Starfire whispered hoarsely, "Why?"

Blackfire appraised her battered, scarred, trembling sister. The puffy shark scars ran from her navel to her shoulder, marring her once-perfect skin. Her hair hung nearly to her feet in clumps. But best of all, what fed Blackfire's joy, as the glint in Starfire's narrowed eyes that assured Blackfire of her victory.

"Look at you," Blackfire gushed. "When you got here, you were a mewling corpse. And before that, you were little better than the Earthers' pet. A toy. A show. But now? You fought a clearly superior foe, ready to die. Ready to kill. No hesitation. No weakness. I made you strong again."

Starfire's glare burst with disbelief. She staggered under Blackfire's grin, horrified. "You…"

Blackfire steadied her, grasping her by the shoulders. Her face shone with naked affection. "It broke my heart to see you waste away in that bed. I had to make you what you were before this wretched planet destroyed you. You are a daughter of Tamaran, Koriand'r. A princess. A warrior. Now look at you. You're beautiful."

Realization numbed Starfire's expression blank. She stared at Blackfire's joy. Somewhere in the great distance, the ocean waves that had tried to swallow her crashed. The jungle that had tried to eat her rustled and chirped.

Her fist crossed Blackfire's jaw, breaking her knuckles. Blackfire fell into the sand, laughing. "Magnificent," Blackfire sang as Starfire clutched her fist.

The older sister reached behind her back, to a package obscured by her curtain of dark hair. She threw the package upon the sand. It was a tightly wound ball of metallic metal that glistened purple in the sun. "Here. It's your favorite color," Blackfire said.

Starfire took the wrap cautiously. It unraveled into a thin harness that stole Starfire's voice. "Honor armor…" she breathed.

Brushing herself off, Blackfire said, "No one deserves it more than you, sister." She pointed across the ocean, singling out an indistinct piece of blue horizon. "Your little friends are that way. I'm sure you'll want to let them know you're all better now," she said.

The purple armor straps consumed Starfire. She stared into her own reflection in the vibrant metallic material. "My friends?" She rolled the word around in her mouth. She hadn't thought of them for days. Her only thoughts had been about her battle with Blackfire. It had given her purpose. It had made her alive again. Now her old life lay across the ocean. Could she really go back?

Blackfire took to the air. She hovered over Starfire, and said, "I'll be watching, Koriand'r. Prove to me you were worth waking up." She faded into the sky, her words vanishing into the crash of the surf.

Starfire grasped the armor tightly, feeling it press upon her scabbed hands. She wriggled her hips into the cool fabric. Its heavy collar closed around her neck, sitting high on her chest. She laid its straps over her breasts and hooked them into the bottom.

She took one last look at the jungle. It stared back at her, laughing through its rustling leaves. She didn't know if she should laugh with it or burn it to the ground. She did neither, and dove into the surf.

It was a long way home.

* * *

Beast Boy twisted around in his seat, looking throughout the food court for the punch line of a joke he didn't understand. His head swam with the scents of perfume counters, floor wax, fast food, new clothes, and the thousand-plus people teeming around them in the throes of consumerism.

He settled into his seat and stared at the white, clear-capped Styrofoam cup sitting on the table in front of him. "I don't get it," he said.

Sitting next to him, Raven pulled on her cup through its straw. A curious sense of solitude emanated from her, as though her cloak formed a barrier that kept her apart from the rest of the shopping mall. People gave her chair a noticeable berth as they passed by. She glanced at Beast Boy, smacked her lips, and said, "It's kiwi mango. What's not to get?"

"Not the smoothie." He gestured to the food court. His and Raven's uniforms drew odd looks from the mall goers, but not many, and even fewer pointed murmurs. "This. You. Us. You teleporting me to the mall. Did somebody mess with your mirror again? 'Cause I swear, I probably had nothing to do with it."

Raven stared at him through a long, slurping sip of her smoothie. Mocha Ice chilled her tongue, making her voice placid as it wandered into her memory. "Twice a month, Koriand'r and I would come here. She liked to go shopping for clothes, or bath beads, or hair products, or some nonsense. But after she was done, she would drag me here and buy me a coffee smoothie."

Raven's eyes grew distant. "We would talk about a lot of things that never seemed to matter much at the time. Boys. You guys. Villains. Things about Earth she didn't understand. Robin, more often than not. I never much cared for it. All these people, all this noise…"

She set her cup down. "This whole week, I've been craving a coffee smoothie. Something at the back of my head kept telling me to come here. But I didn't want to. Not if Koriand'r couldn't come here with me. Only…I think I had to."

Beast Boy fiddled with his straw, squirming in his seat. "So why are you telling me this? Why bring me here?" he asked.

Raven couldn't meet his gaze either. "For some stupid reason, I care about what you think of me. I don't want you to think I'm some unfeeling monster who doesn't care, just because I'm not crying, or blowing things up. I've had to meditate an extra hour every day since Koriand'r died just to maintain control. She was the closest thing I have to a sister." Closing her eyes, she admitted, "I'll always miss her, Garfield."

Beast Boy felt three inches tall. He reached for his cup, hoping to cool the shame burning in his gut. "I never thought you were a monster," he murmured.

Her gaze lifted from her cup. She smiled weakly, and touched his arm, if only because Starfire would have, were she present. "I know. You're a good friend, Garfield. She thought so too."

He managed a smile in return. "Look at you, talking about your feelings. Does…" He sobered, and asked, "Does this mean you're ready to talk about what happened in the cave?"

Raven's hand and smile fell simultaneously. "Drink your smoothie," she told him.

A nine-note song chirped from Beast Boy's belt, freezing his hand around his cup. He silenced his communicator by flipping it open. Then he abandoned his seat with a sigh. "Trouble downtown. We got a Tyrant sighting at Liep Square."

The air chilled around Raven's spreading cloak. "Too bad for them," she said, floating from her seat.

"Yeah," Beast Boy said darkly, his claws scraping the inside of his gloves.

* * *

Liep Square was an open field of empty pavement and cool water amid a forest of skyscrapers. A long reflecting pool sat raised on a platform of pale concrete, running a block long and half as wide. Business suits congregated around the cool water every day at lunchtime to escape their offices for an hour, enjoying the sweltering summertime by choice.

Today, the placid pool had been turned into a churning square lake of acid. Its waters trembled with the rumblings of a massive tank unlike any other in the world. Beside the tank, two copper-headed siblings wreaked destruction upon the panicking citizens that ran at their approach.

"_That's right, keep running!_" the wedge-like tank said in Gizmo's voice. "_Keep running, geekwads! I need to calibrate the SLICER's targeting systems anyhow!_" The segmented, articulated cannon atop the tank swung forward with a glowing tip.

Shimmer jogged alongside the pool's edge, making its acid waters boil. The green froth spilled over, chasing back bystanders. "This is more like it!" she crowed. "A little old-fashioned mayhem really hits the spot!"

A subcompact car hurtled off Mammoth's fingertips. It rolled through the air and broke the pavement, throwing ground and people from its crater. Mammoth brushed his hands clean. "Let's see li'l Granty plan something this fun," he grunted. Then he scowled as he car rolled to a halt on its roof. "Aw, hell. Gutter ball."

Blue sound converged upon Mammoth's chest. He staggered back with a yowl. The sonic blast attracted the SLICER's secondary cannons, which rose from the side of the tank to brandish green buildup. A staccato wave of plasma bolts blasted the pronged cannons clean off their housings. When Shimmer moved to intervene, smoke pellets struck her feet, enveloping her in smog.

Three Titans stood as pillars at the edge of the plaza. The last of the crowd streamed around them, leaving the space empty, and ready for battle. Cyborg stepped forward and retracted his cannon, and said, "Huh. Looks like we're a few Tyrants light today."

The air next to the Titans shimmered, producing Beast Boy and Raven from a swirl of shadows. Tek lifted her smoking cannons as they entered her line of fire. She quipped, "S'okay. We're full up on Titans."

Cyborg's expression stormed. "No, we ain't," he growled. "And these jokers are gonna be real sorry they came to play with only half of their gang, 'cause now they're gonna get four times the beat-down."

The main cannon of the SLICER singled out Cyborg. A miniature sun loomed in its barrel. Gizmo's voice boomed over loudspeakers, "_Bring it on, losers!_"

"Titans Together!" bellowed Cyborg. He charged forward, opening the launch panels on his shoulders. Mini-missiles blasted from the hatches to spiral into the SLICER's forward port, masking the front of the tank in deafening fire. A green eagle soared over Cyborg's explosion, and then ballooned into a stegosaurus to enter the tank's weight class.

Tek took aim to hole the SLICER with her plasma repeaters. As she fired, the concrete beneath her softened into sloshing mud, swallowing her up to her neck. Her shots went wild and scorched the side of a skyscraper. She cried and splashed the soupy ground, fighting to keep her visor dry.

Within the shrinking edges of her vision, she saw Shimmer standing at the pool's edge. The pale Tyrant orchestrated the molecules in the ground with subtle gestures and a sick smile. "Keep your chin up, Robot Lass," she snickered as Tek submerged beneath the surface.

She started straightening the soup back into a solid when a shaft of black force hammered her leather-bound chest. Shimmer hurtled back with a choked squall, making room for Raven to follow her soul-ram to Tek's floundering.

An armored hand flailed out of the quicksand concrete. Raven grasped it with her soul-self shaped into giant tongs. "Hang on," she shouted at the ground.

Raven's soul-self dragged Tek's head and shoulders to the edge of the soup. Hyperventilation bubbled in Tek's grille as she clutched the solid ground. She appeared otherwise fine. "Thanks," she wheezed.

"No pr—"

The broken end of a power cable pole struck Raven in the stomach like a javelin. With her soul-self occupied, Raven was caught completely off her guard. Its jagged end was sharp enough to pierce her with ease. The force of Mammoth's throw should have let the javelin tear her in half.

Raven sucked in a surprised breath and doubled over as the pole smashed against her stomach. Its far end tilted up, and then collapsed noisily to the ground. Its jagged point blunted and splintered against a lattice of red ether woven over her midsection that stopped the pole cold.

She stared in shock at the red soul-self that had caught the pole. Somewhere in the background, Mammoth cursed her for spoiling his shot, and then made crunching noises beneath Bushido's onslaught. Numbly she touched the red lattice. A simple, purse sensation of satisfaction jolted up her arm and hammered her psychic walls. The electric pole slid out of the lattice and dropped.

Tek regarded the dissipating ether as she climbed from the liquid ground. "That's so cool. How'd you make it red?" she asked the thunderstruck Raven.

Neither Titan had time for an answer. The SLICER's low-slung nose barreled through them, forcing them to dive aside or be smashed on its hood, like Cyborg had. A green octopus clung to its cannon shaft as the SLICER tore across the plaza, drizzling oil behind its sparking left tread.

Cyborg peeled his face off the windshield and scowled at Gizmo behind the controls. Seeing the imp's gleeful grin broke Cyborg's thinning patience. "What is this, a game?" he shouted through the transparisteel. "What's the point of all this?"

Windshield wipers answered for Gizmo by batting at Cyborg's nose. Gizmo cackled and lifted a talk-box wired to the dash. "_Sometimes you just gotta get back to basics, Tin Butt. Loosen up a little._"

Working his arm free, Cyborg pounded on the windshield. "Did you kill Starfire for fun, you sick little freak?" Cracks wormed into the windshield, forming a divot that Cyborg's fist deepened with each blow. The spreading cracks in his tank lowered Gizmo's brow.

The SLICER braked hard, throwing Cyborg to the ground. As he bounced, the massive tank smashed its cannon against its side, squashing the octopus between, stunning it back into Beast Boy, who fell with a groan. Gizmo found his grin again as the articulated cannon swung upon Cyborg with yellow death looming in its maw.

"_Starskank wasn't one of ours,_" Gizmo said through the loudspeaker. "_But if you want Crispy Titan ala Gizmo, I can whip some up right now._"

Mammoth stood half a battlefield away, watching the execution-by-tank with Bushido choking in his grasp. The smaller warrior gurgled and tugged uselessly at Mammoth's grasp. Mammoth chortled, and said, "Two down in two weeks. Bad time to be a good guy, huh?"

Hot pain blossomed against Mammoth's back, arching him forward with a roar. He dropped Bushido and staggered forward. His roar became a snarl as he whirled, fists poised, and demanded, "Who the…?"

A vision of terrifying, otherworldly beauty stood before him. She wore a heavy silver collar and strategic strips of metallic purple over her scarred golden body. Unkempt fire exploded from her head down to her feet, with bits of seaweed woven throughout. A green star burned in her palm, and two others, in her eyes.

"…hell?" Mammoth trailed off.

Her bare foot sank into his groin, burrowing with vicious force and speed. Mammoth's entire world became pain as the kick lifted him off the ground and curled him into a ball. She stepped forward and caught him, and then hurled him.

Gizmo's thumb mashed the cannon's trigger, launching a blast of electro-death that would turn Cyborg into a smoldering memory. But the shot was interrupted by a ball of Mammoth that had been pitched into his line of fire. Mammoth ate the orb meant for Cyborg, dancing and twitching in a yellow storm that slammed him into the ground. The towering Tyrant smoked, and did not move.

Furious, Gizmo looked back along Mammoth's arc while his cannon charged for another shot. He saw a golden shape sprinting at him, trailing red and green behind it, crossing the pavement with long strides. By the time his eyes brought her into focus, she was already upon the SLICER. "You?" he shrieked too late.

Green bolts hammered the damaged windshield into a cloud of shards. As Gizmo flinched, the golden streak leapt through the cloud and grasped him by the throat. His face met the dashboard once, twice, thrice, until it stopped resembling a face. He was tossed out the empty windshield to flop onto the ground at Cyborg's feet.

Cyborg shambled up, drunk with shock. His swimming vision trailed from the blood pooling beneath Gizmo's pulpy face to the broken front of the SLICER. A dream climbed from the tank, growing steadily more real as she slid down to stand before him. With his untrustworthy eyes, he peeled back her grim expression, and recognized the sprightly features hidden underneath.

"Kory?" he said weakly.

The entire battlefield stopped. Anyone still conscious froze in place to stare at the resurrected girl in their midst. Shock, joy, and tears pervaded the Titans in varying mixtures as Starfire swept her glare across the plaza. When she found Shimmer, the lone Tyrant swore, and snapped, "Son of a bitch! Can't any of you retards just freaking stay dead? Is that so hard?"

Her outburst reminded the rest of the Titans of her presence. They rounded upon her with violent intent, stalking her in a half-circle that cut her off from Mammoth and Gizmo. Stepping back, Shimmer shrank from the wall of Titans. She turned and ran as fast as she could.

Starfire let her flee. As the adrenaline of the moment faded, she felt fatigue seep from her bones to soak her body. Behind her, five presences slinked closer. She felt an apprehensive pang as she turned to face her friends. She wasn't sure what or how to feel.

And she didn't get the chance to decide. Cyborg swept her off the ground and wept into her tangle of hair, crushing her with a cold, metal hug. "You're alive!" he sobbed, and kissed her kelpy scalp. "Kory, you're alive!"

She worked her shoulder free from his embrace, only to lose it when Tek piled onto the hug, thankfully sans armor. "You came back!" Tek moaned, streaming tears from her twinkling eyes. Beast Boy struck Starfire's other side and kissed her cheek profusely.

Finally, Cyborg let them all drop, giving Starfire a second to collect herself. She stepped back to address their looming questions, and then stopped.

Tek wore a different uniform, one of white and blue that clung to her skin. That much wasn't odd. And Raven looked normal, if somewhat confused. But Cyborg had grown into a smooth, silvery, gleaming, hulking man-machine, larger and stronger than Starfire remembered. And Beast Boy…she wouldn't have recognized the lanky elf grinning at her if his skin weren't green. He looked three years older, and stunningly handsome, and he stood as tall as she. Had she been away longer than she'd thought?

"What has happened?" she asked, dizzy with change. "You are all so…different."

"Look who's talking," Beast Boy said with tears in his eyes. "Va-va-voom! You buying your outfits in installments now?"

Raven clipped him upside his head with the edge of her palm. Then she reached for Starfire with glowing hands, and said, "You're hurt. Hold still, I'll—"

Starfire caught Raven's hands. She looked down at the menagerie of scars, scabs, and burns that shimmered under Raven's black light. "I will heal," she told Raven.

Something glimmered deep in Raven's reticent gaze. The sorceress dispelled the glow from her hands as they slid into Starfire's. She squeezed, and was gratefully squeezed in return. "Welcome home, Koriand'r," she said softly.

A fifth presence spoke from behind Starfire, turning her sharply. "Yes, welcome home—"

Starfire broke from Raven's clasp and snared Bushido by the neck. She lifted him off the ground and gathered a starbolt to scour his face clean to the bone. "You!" she snarled.

As he gurgled in reply, Tek grabbed Starfire's arm and yanked down, returning Bushido's feet to the ground. "No!" Tek squealed. "Good guy now! Good guy!"

Beast Boy eased Starfire's grasp away from Bushido's throat. While the swordsman gagged, Beast Boy explained, "You've missed a lot. Let's head back to the Compound. I think we've both got a lot to explain…"

Starfire nodded tiredly. She felt as though she had surfaced from the ocean to step into a dream. Watching Tek cradle Bushido, Starfire wasn't sure what to make of the dream. She wasn't sure she liked it, either. "Yes. There are…things…I would like to know." She frowned, and added, "Compound?"

* * *

"What do you mean, 'tough?'" Shimmer shrieked, and pounded the counter. "We have to rescue them!"

Ravager examined her calmly from across the counter. He continued to smother his sandwich with peanut butter, and said, "No, we don't. You three specifically violated my orders and went gallivanting throughout the city to get your jollies. What did you expect would happen? Frankly, I'm astonished you made it back at all."

Ops rattled with Shimmer's frustrated scream. None of the other Tyrants gave her much notice, save for Jinx, who rose from the couch to join the argument in the kitchen. The video game tournament raged between Billy Numerous and Kid Wykkid without her, and without pause for her absence.

"That's my brother you're writing off, Daddy's Boy! Do you really expect me to just leave him in the hospital?" she snarled.

Completing his sandwich with a layer of bread and smug, Ravager said, "That's exactly what I expect."

Jinx folded her arms with a worried look as she stepped to Shimmer's side. "Grant, I hate to agree with the little moron, but she's right. Baran and Mik are our own. I've known them longer than anybody, and leaving them to rot isn't an option. Especially not since you got your wish, and Little Miss Purple Thong is back in the picture."

He chilled her with a look. "And what should we do? Blow up the hospital? Kill the police guarding them? Nurse them back to health ourselves? A waste of time and resources that, honestly, they don't deserve. They stopped being Tyrants the moment they got themselves caught by being stupid. We can't afford to coddle idiocy. There are bigger concerns at hand."

Hurtful hate glistened in Shimmer's glare. She shook, gripping the edge of the counter. Then she stormed from Ops in a silent huff, but not before waving her hand back at Ravager's sandwich. His teeth sunk into dry ice, chasing his lips back.

Jinx glowered as he set down his former sandwich with a sigh. Bitter accusation steeped her sharp tone. "So is this the kind of loyalty we can expect, 'Ravager?' Left hanging out to dry if we don't goose step in a perfect line behind your plan?"

"Loyalty begets loyalty, 'Jinx,'" he said just as sharply. "Ignore me, and I'll ignore you in turn."

She turned from him, sweeping her long pink hair over her frosty shoulder. "Right now, that suits me just fine. Don't wait up for me tonight."

"Nikki…." he called after her. As the door pinched shut behind her, he sighed bitterly. "No wonder you always worked alone," he muttered to himself. He shuffled out Ops' side door, dragging a dark cloud behind him.

Billy and Wykkid played on, oblivious to the drama unfolding around them. Moments later, the window pane to the side of their screen slid up and into its housing, opening Ops to a midnight sea breeze. A silvery shape fluttered in through the window to touch lightly upon the floor.

Billy noticed the flash of silver out of the corner of his visor. He snorted, and said, "Where you been, newbie? Y'all missed all the excitement."

"Nowhere special." Stretching lazily, Blackfire grinned. She strutted past the couch, glowing with satisfaction, and said, "Just out making things more interesting."

* * *

The unfamiliar hallway slid around Starfire, making her feel trapped. After sleeping under the stars, it felt strange to be back in a structure. Compounded with the newness of this "Compound," it made Starfire feel uneasy. But she put on a pleasant face for the sake of her chattering friends behind her.

"Sorry to stick you on the top floor away from everybody," Cyborg explained as he ushered her down the empty hall. "The Habitat Wing is two levels, five rooms apiece. At least you'll get your own bathroom. And if you get really lonely, I'd bet you could get Raven to switch with you in a second. She tried to get me to give her a room up here anyway."

Latching onto Starfire's arm, Tek gushed, "Tomorrow we'll show you around town. Everything looks different now!"

Cyborg coughed and forced his eyes up from Starfire's nigh-bare hips. "We'll help you with your new, ah, costume, too. Some boots, maybe some gloves…maybe actual clothes," he muttered awkwardly.

"And your hair!" Tek exclaimed with glee. She combed Starfire's fiery mane with her fingers. "Gosh, it's so long!"

"Yes…" Starfire said distantly, glancing away. "And…you will tell me about Robin?"

Heartbreak rebounded between Cyborg and Tek in a look. Cyborg guided Starfire to the last door of the hall, and promised, "First thing tomorrow, Kory. I swear. But for now, you should try to get some rest. You look like hell."

The door opened, revealing a wealth of pink. The walls, the carpet, the circular bed, all smiled at Starfire with colorful cheeriness. Posters and pictures already adorned the walls, copies from her old room in the Tower. A vanity dresser sat opposite the bed, both sitting beside a beautiful city at night through a wall that was entirely a window.

Cyborg's smile was palpable from behind her. "You like it? I had it ready since day one, just waiting for you to wake up." He shifted against the door frame, wandering through the room with his gaze. "It's funny. I…I went crazy this whole week, but I never once thought of tearing this stuff down."

"It is…nice," Starfire managed to say.

Tek snared her in another hug, and said for the forty-third time, "I'm so glad you're home, Kory. I'll see you first thing for breakfast tomorrow." Then she left, resolving to stop by the garden on her way to bed. She owed someone tremendous thanks.

Cyborg backed from the door with an identical smile. "I'm making waffles. Don't sleep too late, okay?" he said throatily.

Starfire nodded as the door closed. Then she turned to the glaring cheeriness of her room. The pink swam into her, sank between her toes in thick shag, smiling at her from all directions. She breathed it in.

With a steady hand, she spread a starbolt into a beam that methodically scoured the walls. The pink paint crackled. The posters peeled into cinders. The carpet coughed up as ash. The bed blackened, burning briefly before it collapsed into itself.

She burned everything slowly, carefully, until the room was nothing but ash and flinders. When she was done, she lay on the gritty floor and stared at the lights out her window.

* * *

Beast Boy followed an invisible line through the lower Habitat Wing. His dinosaur slippers shuffled in pursuit of a strong, heavy scent that pulled him like a guide wire past her door.

"Raven?" he called. "Hello? C'mon, quit hiding. I wanna say goodnight to Kory, and you're coming with me. And don't give me any crap about feelings and meditation, 'cause I won't buy it."

The trail through the dark corridor ended at the bathroom door. Beast Boy paused with his hand on the door control. Raven had practically disappeared after they had returned to the Compound. If she wasn't feeling well, he didn't want to make her feel worse by barging in on her.

He knocked on the door. "Raven? You in there?" No answer came. He leaned against the door, sliding down onto his haunches with a sigh. "It's okay, you know. We all feel wigged out that Kory's back. Kory knows it, too. And I know you can't go all huggy-crazy about it, but it won't hurt to say goodnight, right? I'll be huggy-crazy enough for the both of us. Especially considering her new outfit. Rawr," he joked.

Still, no answer came. Beast Boy stretched his ear through the door and heard nothing. No breathing. No heartbeat. But his nose told him that this was where she had last been.

"Raven?" His voice rose in to a shout. He stood and slapped the door control, and slid through before it finished opening. Then he skidded back, the floor scraping beneath his slippers.

The bathroom hung in shambles. Mirrors lay in shards across the floor, crunching beneath his staggering steps. The stall walls around the showers and toilets had collapsed like dominos. A web of cracks consumed the tiled walls. One lone, surviving light flickered overhead. The rest had burst.

Beast Boy inhaled sharply. The air tasted slightly cold, and swam with Raven's scent. "She teleported?" he said to himself as he crunched through the mess.

Her scent pulled strongest from a cracked sink at the end of the row. A small, colorful box lay discarded underneath. Looking in the sink, he found a small, odd, plastic wand discarded atop the drain. He picked up the wand and read its colored end.

"What is this? A math stick?" He ran it beneath his nose, and cringed. Befuddled, he picked up the box.

He read the box front to back.

He looked at the wand.

He dropped the box and wand.

"Holy crap…" he uttered, and clutched the edge of the sink to keep upright as a surge of bile climbed his throat.

**To Be Continued**


	25. The Low Road: Trading Up

_Disclaimer_

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

* * *

"This is the stupidest thing we have ever tried. Hands frikkin' down."

"Be quiet," Ravager told Shimmer. He settled onto the floor between her and Jinx, his legs folded carefully to avoid knocking over the candles encircling them. "Everyone, take your places. It's time to begin."

Night gathered thickly inside Ops. The ocean tide knocked on the windows with its distant thrum, sounding fainter than it should have. Even the stars struggled to reach through the glass, as though something were filtering the outside world from the cavernous room.

Inside Ops, the six Tyrants sat into a circle, facing a pentagram that had been drizzled on the carpet in blood. Six candles, their only light, stood watch around them, and made their shadows dance together atop the pentagram. Warm darkness stirred at the edge of the candlelight, and darted between flickers to brush the Tyrants' spines with chills.

Kid Wykkid sat at the apex of the pentagram, holding out his hands. The folds of his onyx robe rippled as he offered his wizen grasp to either side of him. Glistening eyes deep in his hood stared expectantly first at Billy to his left, and then at Blackfire to his right. Billy took Wykkid's hand with a cringe. Blackfire rolled her eyes and clasped his other hand, making the pale, skeletal fingers creak in her grasp.

The rest of the Tyrants followed suit. They closed their circle within a circle, six souls within six flames. Six breaths merged into one. Six discordant minds aligned for a single cause.

"Nobody mess up their lines," Ravager mumbled, breaking from their harmony only a moment.

Annoyance crackled pink beside him. The phantom stirrings in Ops scurried from the hex. "We aren't going to forget," Jinx muttered.

Wykkid's bloody stare narrowed. Everyone else drew still and silent. Together, they raised their heads, merging their dancing shadows into one distinct whole over the pentagram.

Crackling growth consumed the candle flames. Each tiny fire climbed from its wick into a wire-thin pillar, which then bent to connect to the next flame in the circle. The flames became a ring, and then rose into a wall that trapped the Tyrants in flickering heat.

Five voices rose into one. "From the heart of their ruins, we join together, seeking ruin upon their hearts. We unite here for one purpose."

Tongues rose from the fiery wall around them. They rolled from the thread and spun into a toothed wheel above the Tyrants' heads. Reaching their circle's center, the wheel solidified into a cog of fluid flame.

"Through us, they will know fear."

The flickering circle flared again. A flat, fluttery avian culled itself from the wall. Its screech shot sparks from its beak. Its tail trailed wisps of fire as it flew after the spinning cog.

"Through them, we will know triumph."

A beast came next from the fire. It climbed out from the wall on tentacles that became hooves that clopped as it stampeded the edge of the wall. Wings erupted from its back to thrust it into the air, where it joined the cog and the bird in chasing one another.

"With our hand, they will grasp only loss."

The flame wall flared, birthing a star of glimmering brilliance. Its light cast out the shifty darkness. It shone upon the circle on its way to the formation spinning overhead.

"With their hand, we will take victory."

One flame of the wall stretched, growing flat and long. It left the wall with a hilt of coiled fire and spun into the formation. The air trembled at the heat of its blade.

"Bring us now their glory."

A monster burst from the wall. Plated in flames, it turned its flickering scowl to the shapes above, and flexed its brutish legs to jump into their midst.

At Kid Wykkid's lead, the six lifted their joined hands. Their stirring shadows surged into the center, pooling in the pentagram. Light and shadow blurred together in the bloody shape, forming a muddy golden luminance that spread, pooling beneath them. The six shapes overhead circled harder, blurring until they formed another ring of fire among the Tyrants.

Together, they chanted, "We offer our whole in recompense. Take us now, and give us what we seek. Take us. Take us! **Take us!**"

The circle of swirling fire froze above their heads into the six shapes. Each shape paused, quivering, as if considering. Then, the shapes spirited into the Tyrants, each choosing one reposed pillar of the circle.

Ravager gasped as ethereal flame punched him from the inside, knocking him out of the others' grasps. His eyes flew open as he sprawled backward through a dying wall of fire. Glowing tendrils wisped from his chest plate. He patted the armor, and felt no heat through his gauntlet, but instead in his stomach. The warmth vanished entirely as he looked up.

The flames around them were gone. Only waxy stumps remained, black and ghastly in the starlit room. Spots swam in his vision, the only remnants of the flame. His Tyrants lay away from the pentagram in varied states of unease. Their outlines glimmered, pale and fragile in the dark.

Blackfire rose first, ignoring Kid Wykkid's tired, proffered hand in need. "Well," she purred, "that was needlessly showy. Is all of that pyrotechnic fluff actually supposed to do something?"

A crackling pink scowl pierced Blackfire without effect. Jinx helped the ailing Wykkid to his feet as she glared at Blackfire, and said, "What you know about magic probably couldn't fill an anal probe, Saucer-Slut. The spell worked just fine."

Billy Numerous squinted at himself, patting the sigil on his chest. When he found nothing out of place, he duplicated, and proceeded to double-check himselves. "I don't feel no different," he decided in chorus.

"All according to plan," Ravager said, and brushed off his chest. Thumbing his helmet's clasps, he ducked his head free, revealing a smile that hovered in the starlight. "Now, everyone get a good night's sleep. Things will look much brighter in the morning."

* * *

**Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**The Low Road**: _Trading Up_

At eleven o'clock, precisely, Raven's door rattled with a gentile knocking. The knuckles' polite inquiry against her door came just moments after she had finished her meditation, and just moments before she would draw back the covers of her bed to end the day. A casual observer might mistake the knock's timing as fortuitous. To Raven, ever the wiser, the knock was a calculated attack on her privacy, one that needed to stop once and for all.

She looked over from her seat at her dresser, puffing at the intrusion. The knock struck four times and then waited. She was tempted to ignore it, but she knew it would come again unless she answered. So she resolved to do so for the last time, and set her hairbrush aside to meet the door.

Emotions wavered on the other side. Nervousness became concern, and concern became assuredness, only to become nervousness again, all in a foghorn that blared through the door without regard for its soundproofing. When Raven opened the door, that nebulous emotion collapsed into a smiling green face waiting in the hall.

Beast Boy pulled his hand back, lowering his knuckles. "Hi, Raven!" he said, vomiting cheer mixed with minty-brushed breath over Raven's poker face. "How are you?"

"Annoyed," Raven said. "Beast Boy, this is the last time. Do you understand?"

He chucked his thumb down the hall and grinned as though she hadn't spoken. "I was just on my way to my room. Thought I'd stop by to see how you were, maybe say goodnight. Man, my ears are still ringing after all that noise this afternoon. Right?"

Raven's nose whistled with exasperated breath. "Yes, I know. You've stopped by every night for the past week to 'say goodnight.' You keep bringing me food and checking up on me like I'm a starving invalid. Up until now, I've tolerated it, because I know that, for you, this is the height of restraint. That's why I'm putting this as politely as I can: Go. Away."

The frost in her words only made his smile glisten. He leaned on her doorframe with a casual air. "Well, I should probably let you get to sleep," he said. "Long day, and all."

"Azar," she swore under her breath and clenched her eyes. "I know you know, all right? You can probably smell it, or something. But I don't want your help, and I definitely don't need you checking up on me like this. It stops now. This is the last time. Okay, Garfield?"

Beast Boy stood from her door with a forced yawn. "Yeah, I'm bushed too. G'night, Raven. See you in the morning." He sauntered from her door to his, and hip-checked its control. Winking, he disappeared into his room. Despite her glare's supreme efforts, he did not burst into flame at any point.

Shaking her head, Raven withdrew into her sanctuary. Her cloak floated to its peg with a sleepy thought. She turned out the lights and crawled into bed. Her annoyance drifted away, lost in her meditated tranquility. Even the city's rampant emotions dwindled behind her psychic walls.

But Raven did not fall asleep for quite some time. A soft, steady babble of emotions floated through her, not of her, but no less connected.

* * *

Cyborg balanced a brimming mug of hot chocolate encircled with Oreos on a small plate as he climbed the stairs. Fatigue buzzed in his optics, casting static in the shadows at the top of the stairwell. He shook his head clear and relied on his gyros to keep the plate and mug upright.

In a few tired steps, he rounded onto Ops' balcony. "Knock-knock," he said.

Starfire turned from the main console at his approach. In the dead of Sector Prime, the glow of the hovering holographic city map made a colorful ghost of her. She nodded to Cyborg, and then turned back to her console.

"I thought you might like a snack for your first graveyard shift," he said, and set the plate on top of her console. "Blow on that chocolate before you drink it. Our microwave is the only one in the city with 'nuclear' as a standard setting," he joked.

She did not give the plate a glance. "I am not hungry," she said. The map above them shifted as she clacked the keyboard. Her gaze patrolled the hologram, oblivious to the disappointment wrought in Cyborg's expression.

He sighed. "Yeah. You said the same thing at dinner. And again after we took down Punk Rocket's stupid Calliope of Death. You love post-brawl doughnuts, Kory. You used to call them—"

"—tiny, sweet wheels," Starfire said. Her voice rang as if from a great distance that Cyborg could not see. "I know. I will eat when I am hungry. Is that acceptable?"

Cyborg picked up the plate, careful to avoid crossing her chilly gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, of course that's okay, Kor. Let me know if you need anything, okay? Or if something non-emergency-related comes up."

"The setup here is similar to those in the Tower. I should be fine," she stated without looking up.

He leaned over, snaking his hand toward the color-coded commands at the edge of the control panel. "Should be pretty boring, so you can use this command bar to access the 'net, or TV, or radio, or whatever."

Her distant words waded through annoyance. "Thank you," she said, far from thankful. "I will manage from here."

"Right. Sure. I'll be up in six hours to take over," Cyborg said, and backed away. "Goodnight, Kory."

"Mmn."

Cyborg lingered at the edge of the balcony. The plate balanced on his hand felt heavier than it had coming up the stairs. He hefted it and watched Starfire pour herself into the console. Her shoulders tightened noticeably beneath his stare. When she glanced back, the sharp challenge in her look turned him away.

* * *

"Checkmate," Bushido announced, and folded his arms to frame his smug expression.

Tek leaned over the board, overshadowing the Commons' pale fluorescence with her puzzled look. She searched across the board for his means of blocking her king's escape. "Where? I can't see…"

He tapped his bishop. "Here," he said, and traced a line of white squares to the spot where her king would escape his queen. "Diagonally."

She grinned. "Pretty sneaky," she said, and tilted her king. Leaning back from the coffee table, she collapsed back onto the couch and exploded with a yawn. Her arms burst into a stretch that crackled her spine. The twinkling city lights out the window spelled a late hour. "Probably cheated," she mumbled between yawns.

Slapping his folded legs, Bushido rocked forward on the floor and set about resetting the board. "Unfounded accusation is the last, desperate act of a poor loser," he told her.

"No," she yawned, "'Unconsciousness' is the last, dusty snack of a poor taser… Wow. That calliope really took it out of me." She perched her feet at the end of the couch, and laid her head upon the armrest. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Bushido sidelined his queen to watch Tek drift from the land of the waking. His victorious smirk was drained at the sight of her, replaced with an expression he was glad she could not see. "No rematch, then? You aren't even going to brave the stairs up to your room?" he asked.

"Mmmnno," she murmured, and squirmed deeper into the cushions. "Unless you wanna carry me?"

"Mmmnno," he replied wryly. He stood and tugged the blanket off the back of the couch, and draped it over her. Retrieving a cushion from one of the easy chairs, he lifted her head and pillowed it gently. "Goodnight, Tek."

"Night, Ry," she mumbled.

Bushido tiptoed around the couch, still wearing his furtive smile. But with each step he took, that smile waned. It left him entirely as he stopped by the door. Turning, he looked back through the couch where she lay. "Tek?" he said softly, half-hoping she was already gone.

A moment. Then, "Mmm?"

"I cheated," he said.

The couch shifted slightly. Tek remained hidden behind its back. "Mm-hmm. I know," she called back. "Moved your rook when I got a drink."

He tilted his head. His brows furrowed at the couch as he asked, "Why didn't you say anything?"

Her voice faded into luxurious slumber. "We were having fun. I like you having fun without whacking someone with your sword. S'nice."

Surprise stayed him a moment longer. He watched the back of the couch, spellbound by the steady rasp that emerged from behind it. Then he tapped the light switch, tucking her in darkness. He left for his own bed with a sense of wonder and a loss for words.

* * *

The sun vaulted the hedge row of the Compound to climb its walls. A symphony chirped from tree to tree, greeting the day in song. Lamp posts winked out as their nightly job came to an end, and the traffic returned to the streets and sidewalks of the city.

Morning trickled through the slit in Cyborg's window. His systems activated with an electrical hum. His senses came online to take in the day, waking him fully. As his awareness rebooted, he lay on his inclined maintenance harness and took stock.

His eye trailed to the twisted stalk of cords sprouting from his chest. He fingered the stalk, running his thick fingers through the rubber cords. The metal of his hand caught the dawn and made it dance. He watched the colors swirl in his hand, following them down his arm and across his armored, alloyed body.

Cyborg laughed. He sat up and grasped the plug, wrenching it from his chest socket, laughing raucously at the room full of maintenance towers and backup servers around him. Sparks showered from his fist as he crumpled the plug, laughing at the way it crunched. "Marvelous," he said, and dropped the stalk.

As he stood, he gripped the edges of his harness. It groaned in his grip, molding like soft butter. Cyborg marveled at the indentation of his hand in the metal. He hopped free of the harness, touching his chest socket. It retracted back into his armor, whirring softly away.

He caught sight of another Cyborg looking back at him across the room. He walked toward his reflection, filling the mirror with a quarter ton of metal capped with a satisfied smile.

He raised his arm to the mirror. His smile collapsed into a frown as he concentrated on his arm. His grin returned when the arm began to change. With a rough clattering of components, it blossomed into a sonic cannon, glowing blue at its aperture.

A shriek from the cannon shattered his reflection. He watched the shards cascade at his feet as he flexed his cannon back into an arm. "Absolutely magnificent!" he crowed.

Slapping the door control, he stepped into the hall. He glanced down either direction with a smile that threatened to crack his alloy. It grew wider still when one of the other doors opened.

Bushido stumbled out, struggling with the knot of his teal sash at the waist of his keikogi. Wonderment glistened through the dark hair falling from his forehead. "Well, I'll be a son of a monkey's uncle. It worked!" he exclaimed.

"Was there ever a doubt, Bushido?" said Cyborg. He touched his throat in surprise. Staring intently at the swordsman, he drawled, "Bushido." Delight consumed Cyborg's face once more.

Bushido shook his arms. Metallic jangling escaped his oversized sleeves. When he shook harder, a collection of shuriken sputtered out his cuffs and clattered to the floor. "This is so weird. These pajamas got more metal 'n a scrap yard! And they're heavy as hell, too."

Another of the hallways' doors opened, and a blue cloak floated out. Its hood turned to the noisy pair down the hall. Ethereal stars burned in the hood's shadows above a thin-lipped grimace. The cloak continued floating until it bumped into the wall, where it sagged.

"Ah, Raven!" Cyborg sang, pushing Bushido aside. "Good morning! And job well done, I might add. This is…" His praise trailed off as Raven's lips drew thinner still. Frowning, Cyborg asked, "Are you all right? Is something wrong with the…?"

Raven shook her head. Her arcane stars narrowed as she clutched her stomach. She lurched away down the hall, keeping one hand to the wall to brace herself. Her other hand kept her stomach in place.

Cyborg started after her to press the issue. He needed to know that they wouldn't all wind up sick like Raven as the result of some unmentioned side-effect. But his concern became preempted as a fourth door opened with a scream that curdled his hemotrolium.

Beast Boy burst into the hall, his hands woven through his tussled green hair. He doubled over in a terrible fit, dressed in a rumpled tank top and boxers dotted with animal shapes. Immediately, he found Cyborg, and his scream became a snarl. "You!"

"Hello, Beast Boy," Cyborg said. It was an uphill struggle to filter the laughter from his voice. "Sleep well?"

Rage glistened white in Best Boy's fangs. "Look what you did to me, you son of a bitch!" he shrieked. Waving a hand across his lanky body, he stammered, "I'm a…I'm…I'm…!"

"Green?" Bushido supplied, and snickered.

Shaking, Beast Boy thrust a hand at the sniggering swordsman. His clawed fingers tensed, as if twisting the air. Nothing happened. Beast Boy erupted with another scream and stomped back into his room, punching the control. His snarled curses snapped shut with the door.

Cyborg quelled his laughter. Flexing his hand, he said, "Well, enough foolishness. Let's have a look around, shall we? The first thing we need to find is—"

"—Ops." The silky word descended a stairwell at the end of the hall. Starfire followed soon after, slinking on lilac boots and shapely legs. Hooded eyes of emerald fire licked the thunderstruck boys in the hall. She ran her hands down her sides, tracing the golden contour of her body. "I just woke up there. It's right up the stairs."

Bushido grasped the hilt of his sheathed sword, kneading his fingers into its grip. "Ooh-wee," he said breathlessly, gaping with naked abandon. "I see some definite perks to this here gig."

Starfire grasped her bound breasts, pushing them together. She stared down at them with mild interest. "Fills the armor out nicer than I thought." Sucking in a breath, she moaned, "Mmm, and just aching to Quicken. There's going to be real trouble if Robbie-poo doesn't come back in time."

Half-blushed, Cyborg tugged on an imaginary collar, and stuttered, "Yes, well, let's focus on the task at hand, shall we?"

The stairs spoke again, this time in a different lilt that came from below. "Oh, I don't know, Cyborg. What's the point of all this if we don't have a little fun?" Tek emerged from the stairwell, jumping the last step and landing in a cartwheel. She flipped onto her feet and posed, stretching the blue and white skin of her suit.

Cyborg's blush broke toothily. "Time enough for that later, Tek." He glanced back as Beast Boy emerged from his room, wrestling with the inseam of his pants. The shapeshifter's murderous look did little to dour Cyborg's breezy tone. "Let's get to work, Titans. There's a busy day ahead of us."

* * *

Ravager awoke to a dawn of crashing waves and warm colors splayed across his window. He opened his eyes, staring sleepily at his ceiling, and listened to the waves roll against the shore of Tyrants Island. The sound of the tide nearly lulled him back to sleep. He rolled over and squinted through the window. The ocean rippled with color…

The ocean…

The ocean?

He bolted upright in bed, tossing the covers from his body. Black armor unveiled itself from beneath the king-sized sheets. He slapped the armor with gauntleted hands, patting it down, panting in panic. Then he grasped his gauntlet and tore it off.

Calloused, peachy skin crinkled as he flexed his hand. He felt tendons pulling against bone, and muscle burning as his hand began to tire. Holding his breath, he brought the hand to the left side of his face. His gaping mouth popped like a drum as he patted his smooth, soft cheek.

He looked around. His room was simple, but not plain. A rack of swords and knives adorned one wall, mingled with other weaponry he couldn't identify offhand. A two-toned mask stared back at him with hollow eyes from the rack's center. A dresser, desk, and a full-length mirror sat opposite his bed. He flew from the covers and ran to the mirror, knocking aside the desk chair in a state of panic.

He grasped the edges of the mirror. His reflection grasped back, gaping with horror at who it saw. He ran his hand over crew-cropped chestnut hair, down along the front of his armor harness, up to the empty sheaths on his back. Ravager saw himself, and was horrorstruck.

Something hung next to his reflection. It was a card, taped to the mirror. He lifted it and read aloud the one word written inside: "Surprise."

Seeing his reflection speak, hearing his voice, Ravager reeled back. The card fluttered from the mirror, dancing in the air after him. He staggered back and groped for the door.

Ravager fell from the ocean-view room and collapsed in a dark hall. Fluorescents sensed his presence and flooded the hall from above. Now lit, he recognized the hallway, making for two impossibilities in the same moment. Squinting, Ravager clambered to his feet. "This is a nightmare," he said to the haunting memory around him. "It has to be."

Further down the hall, another door opened. Ravager tensed, reflexively bringing his arm to bear as a confused, hyperventilating Jinx ran into the hall. Frazzled pink braids swung behind her crazed look. She grasped the wall as though it weren't real, and mewled, "What am I doing here? Why am I back in—?"

Her chest seized when she saw Ravager aiming his fist at her. She stumbled backward, trailing a wave of pink sparks. "You!" she cried.

His arm remained an arm in spite of his every thought to the contrary. Furious, he dropped his fist, and demanded, "What's the game, Jinx? How am I back in the Tower? What the hell did you do to me?"

As angry as Ravager was, Jinx seemed five times as frightened of him. "Stay away from me!" she screamed. Her back struck the end of the hallway hard, bouncing her forward. Panicking, she thrust out her arms and scowled in concentration. Pink chaos trickled from her hands, but nothing more. She strained turning red as she screwed shut her eyes. At last, she gasped, and twisted around, chasing her back. "What did you do to my armor? And why—?"

Ravager blinked. He watched her spin in a pitiable circle, clawing at the small of her back. "Jinx?" he asked. Then he clutched his throat in alarm.

"Stop calling me that!" Hex exploded from her cry. She clapped her hand over her mouth with a squeak, stemming the pink spray. Tears flooded her eyes as she collapsed against the wall, flattening herself from Ravager. "Stay away!" she sobbed.

"Jinx, it's me! It's Ravager!" he cried, and staggered forward.

Her hands clawed at the wall, leaving streaks of entropic char in its metal. "I know who you are!" she snapped.

"No!" he insisted. Grasping his throat, he tried to wring out the right words. "I'm not Ravager, I'm 'Ravager.' Ravager! Rrr… Rrrraavager. Ravager! Damn it!"

He swore, and punched the wall with his bare fist. Pain swallowed his knuckles, making him yowl and cradle his hand in his armpit. He stamped his foot at the throbbing pain, and glared at the tiny smear of red left behind on the wall.

Gritting his teeth, he hissed, "Damn it. Stupid! Not made of metal…"

Jinx's tears dried. Her dizzying gasps dwindled as she watched Ravager nurse his red knuckles. Something in his muttered curses sparked a revelation in her, one she could scarcely believe. "R-Ravager?" she asked. Her eyes exploded. She clutched her chest, and said, "Ravager? It's me, Jinx. Jinx! JINX!" Tearfully she squeaked, "Why can't I say my name?"

"I don't know," Ravager gasped, and shook the worst of the pain from his hand. His chestnut glare wandered the hall. "It looks like we're back in the old Tower. But everything looks fixed…"

Footsteps echoed down the hall, rounding the corner. Ravager hugged the wall on reflex, and dragged Jinx beside him with a gauntlet over her mouth to quell her cry. Together, they waited, watching the corner, tensed and trembling.

A skinny boy in a red bodysuit emerged from the intersection. A division symbol clung to his sunken chest. He stepped cautiously, keeping his weight low and centered on the balls of his feet. His goggles swept the hall and found Ravager and Jinx cowering at the ready. Immediately, his stance relaxed.

"I trust you are not who you appear?" Billy Numerous asked politely.

Ravager eyed Billy, still unconvinced. He let his hand drop from Jinx's mouth, and said, "I just woke up like this two minutes ago. What do you know about it?" he demanded.

Both Ravager and Jinx jumped as a second Billy strolled around the corner to join the first. He had been hiding in wait at the edge of the corner, and now joined the first Billy. The identical pair moved in uncanny unison, folding their hands behind their backs with a shared glance.

"I…Rather, 'we' awoke approximately twenty minutes ago," the first Billy explained.

"We thought the other to be an enemy, and immediately attacked," the second Billy continued. "Our battle was quite fierce, and prolonged by our equally impressive skill."

"When we happened upon the mirror in our room, we discovered our duoship, and our battle ended. We also found this," said the first Billy, as he drew a white card from his belt. It was exactly like the one Ravager had found on his mirror, down to its one-word message.

As Ravager took the card, the second Billy turned to his twin, remarking, "Credit where it's due. You threw me into the mirror. It was an impressive counter. I might have done the same."

His opposite nodded in appreciation. "High praise indeed. I did not want to boast before such a magnificent challenger."

"Kind and true, my worthy friend. You are clearly wise beyond what our unfortunate taste in apparel belies," Billy said, and tugged on his bodysuit. It snapped back to his chest.

Jinx snapped her fingers, spraying pink sparks at the gushing pair. "Hey! Can we focus on the insanity that's happening **right now**? I can't stop spewing pink! I hate pink!" she wailed, and grasped her dangling braids. Hex poured through her hair, bursting it from its ribbons into static-charged mess that made her sob and spark harder.

An invisible vice clutched Ravager's temples. He gnashed his teeth, and said, "Jinx, calm down. We need to figure out what's going on here. Or better yet, how I can wake up from this goofy nightmare and never eat chili before bed ever again."

"This is no nightmare." A spindly voice echoed through the hall. Ravager, Jinx, and the Billys jolted as a dark vortex spewed from the wall opposite where they stood. The air chilled at the appearance of a pair of luminous red eyes in the vortex. The eyes surged forward, pulling the vortex around it into a cloak of pure shadow that steamed the warm air.

Ravager shivered. The cold emanating from the cloaked figure cut him to the bone. Something primal inside of Ravager screamed at the figure's presence, which exuded _wrongness_ in a way he could not put to words. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, fighting the urge to run.

"Kid Wykkid, apparently," the cloak hissed. His eyes perused the other Tyrants. Their fear and confusion blared in his hidden ears. "Is anyone here actually who they say they are? I tried to say my own name, but…"

Nodding deeply, the Billys edged away from Wykkid. "Such is our predicament as well," one Billy said.

Wykkid sighed. His breath emerged as a rasp that ran shivers up every spine in the hall, his included. "I was afraid of this. I haven't had a chance to examine the spell in detail, but it's pretty clear what's happened here."

Ravager groaned. His hopes for a snack-induced nightmare shattered as he let his head thud against the wall. He punched the wall again, this time careful of his knuckles' limits. "This is nuts," he sighed. "This can't be happening. It's too crazy. It's too stupid!"

"We've been here before," hissed Wykkid. "Blackfire and I…Blackfire?" He shook his head, and said, "Blackfire and I managed to get a handle on it. We dealt with it then, and we'll deal with it again. Though it wasn't quite this bad the last time…"

"It could be worse," the Billys harmonized, and traded appreciative nods.

Crackling pink hair fought Jinx's fingers for control, arresting her attempts to fight it back into a braid. "Worse?" she whimpered. "How can this be worse?"

The door at the end of the hall exploded with a scream. Startled, Jinx hiccupped a spray of hex that belted Ravager against the wall. Billy Numerous jumped into himself, merging into one from two, and staggered dizzily, clutching his head. The outline of Wykkid's flickering cloak blurred like steam caught in an updraft.

Shimmer stumbled out the ruins of the door, her visage wavering through the tumultuous air. The walls around her ran, their metal glowing into syrupy liquid. Her steps squashed soft footprints into the steel flooring. The straps of her costume hung haphazardly, barely up to the task of keeping her minimally modest. She clutched her hair, framing her outrage with trembling hands as she screamed at the top of her lungs, "WHERE'S MY PENIS?"

Jinx's hex evaporated as she gaped at the reality-warping fit down the hall. "…oh," she murmured.

Tears drizzled from Shimmer's cheeks. They struck the ground as acid, sizzling pinholes into the floor as she lurched at the other Tyrants. Her face twisted with terrible rage. Matter fell into disarray around her baleful charge. "You! You turned me into a **girl**?" she bellowed.

The other Tyrants backpedaled, leaving Ravager to stand alone. He lifted his hands in surrender. The air stirred against his face, feeling heavy with change. Wincing against her turbulent storm of matter, Ravager stopped her cold with two shouted words: "Body swap!"

Shimmer stood mere feet from him with a nimbus of rearranging molecules swirling about her. The teary rage in her eyes died, as did the storm around her. Bitter fear remained, leaking into the rest of her face as she staggered the last few steps to Ravager. She crossed her arms, embarrassed by her tears, and muttered, "I hate that 'body swap' is a totally believable answer to anything in our world."

"Sh-Shimmer?" Jinx said, peering over Billy's shoulder.

Wiping her eyes, Shimmer said, "I guess so. I went to bed totally handsome, and when I woke up, I was all skankified. And I don't even have a decent rack to show for it!" She sniffed, looking up from her chest, and asked, "So, are you guys, like, not you guys? 'Cause if you aren't…I mean, are…"

"I believe we may be skewing into matters of philosophy," Billy said. He swayed slightly, still swimming with the combination of two perspectives on a single memory. The merging of both Billys had left him overwhelmed, yet intrigued.

Shimmer scowled at the first of many headaches, and snapped, "Look, if someone here is a bad guy, I owe him-slash-her a massive ass-kicking in memory of my lost doodle, and I aim to deliver." She looked down at her legs, wiggling them in experimentation.

Raising a tepid hand, Jinx stammered, "Q-Question? Why can't I say my name?"

"My guess is that it's part of the spell," Wykkid hissed. "It would hinder our ability to call for help, and sow confusion among us." He watched Shimmer examine her own swaying hips, and scowled. "Stop that."

"Sorry," Shimmer said, stilling. "They're hippier than I'm used to."

Ravager massaged the bridge of his nose. "The better question is, can you fix this?"

"I don't even know what 'this' is," hissed Wykkid. "I can tell you that it's some complicated spell craft, well beyond anything Jinx can do. I'd guess that, um, 'I' did this. Kid Wykkid…whoever I am. Regardless, it may take days to identify the spell without anything to go on, and maybe even longer to unravel it safely."

"Get on it," Ravager snapped. "Now. Yesterday. Everyone else, split up and look around. I want to know everything about where we are, starting with why this place looks like new, and what the hell we're doing here in the first place."

The lone Billy raised a finger, and said, "I hate to point out the obvious, but since no one else will… It stands to reason that, if we are in these bodies, that would mean that our bodies are currently…"

Ravager's growing growl put an end to his point. "Just get going. If Wykkid can break the spell, fine. Otherwise, we get back to the mainland, we find our bodies, and we make the idiots who are joyriding in them very, **very** sorry."

His anger cooled as he performed a headcount. No amount of optimism in the world could have made him hope that one of them had been spared this humiliating fate. He added, "And somebody find—"

Lavender light flashed around the corner, followed closely by a furious shriek. The hall shook in time with the flashes. The Tower rattled with her screams. Dust coughed from the ceiling to shroud the Tyrants.

Grasping the wall, Ravager sighed. He had been awake for less than ten minutes, and already felt exhausted. "Never mind. Somebody bring Blac…uh, Blackfire up to speed. And try not to let her kill you when she sees you. I…"

An alien pressure pressed beneath his stomach. He grunted, cradling the need with his palm, and frowned in surprise. It had been years since he had felt this need. It struck without warning. He hopped from foot to foot as he left the other Tyrants in curiosity.

"Ravager?" Jinx called.

"Go on ahead. And somebody start in Ops!" he yelled over his shoulder. Walking with urgent purpose, he muttered to himself, "I hope these idiots didn't move the bathroom."

* * *

The hologram of Titans Compound spun lazily overhead. Its surface flashed with highlights of red, yellow, and blue, alternating as dictated by the chattering keyboard of Ops' central console. A sly, mismatched stare took in the schematic, growing more impressed with each secret the hologram revealed.

"My, my, my," Cyborg said, and tapped his chin. "This place is impressive, loathe though I am to admit it. A home, a fortress, a center, and a strategic control point all wrapped into one alphabetic shape."

Tek scoffed from Ops' railing, where she balanced on her palms. A dizzying, deadly fall waited to one side, with Cyborg's engrossing hologram to her other. "You need a slide show to see that? Use your eyes. Or, eye. This place is enormous!" she exclaimed. Her voice echoed through the cavernous Sector Prime, where a bevy of doors awaited their attention.

Tapping a finger to his ocular implant, Cyborg said, "Tek, I can see more than you could ever dream of with these tin eyes of mine. The X-ray vision is particularly intriguing," he added with leer and a smirk.

She stuck out her tongue as her upside-down face filled with blood. "Eh. Personally, I'm not impressed," she said, and walked forward on her hands as she looked up at her body. Scowling, she added, "But I'd better not catch you using that perv-vision on Starfire."

"Is it cheating if it's not my body?" he asked with a laugh, and received a venomous look in reply.

"You wouldn't even live through it, Metal Man," Starfire said as she floated up and over the railing's edge. She landed in Ops, her hips already canted enticingly, her hair draped over one shoulder. She quirked her brow at Cyborg, and said, "I like to play rough."

Tek pushed off the railing and landed between Starfire and Cyborg with her scowl aimed at the former. "Just as well. Nobody is 'that' into orange," she jeered.

Starfire rolled her eyes as she brushed past Tek. "Meow," she drawled, and turned sharply to slap Tek with her hair.

A green parakeet fluttered up and into Ops in Starfire's wake. It hopped onto one of the ancillary consoles' seats, where its body bulged awkwardly. It morphed into a cat, which then became a mouse, which exploded into a hippopotamus, which crushed the seat with a crackle of plastic and steel. It shrank back into Beast Boy, who grasped his lolling head. "Wow. That flying thing is harder than it looks," he said.

The wall at the edge of the balcony squealed with the arrival of the FALL, a step-up lift that carried Bushido from the floor to the balcony in scant seconds. He jumped off the FALL with a snort and shook his head. Daggers drizzled from his jangling sleeves. "Woo! That there is a mighty fine time!" he beamed.

"Report," Cyborg said, swiveling to face his gathered Titans.

Starfire arched against a console with a bored sigh. "What do you want to hear? This place is just another clubhouse, exactly like the other one you stole from them."

"Are you high? This place is un-frikkin'-believable!" Beast Boy exclaimed. "It's twice as big as Tyrants Tower, and has way more tech crammed into it. Gizmo would have a field day with this place…if he was here," he added sharply at Cyborg.

"I'm with Booger Head on this one," Bushido said. "I went wandering around, and I wound up out front. This pretty li'l thing just popped out of thin air, all smiling and sweet-like, asking if I needed service. Said her name was…uh…"

"SARAH," Tek said, and flipped to sit atop one of the consoles. "It's the command program that runs everything here. If we're going to do anything to the security protocols, we'll have to go through it first."

Cyborg steepled his fingers beneath a shrewd smile. "Oh, I don't think we have to worry so much about that," he mused.

A klaxon howled in Ops, surprising Cyborg out of his chair. Red light flashed over him from a beacon in the ceiling. He and the other Titans looked about in confusion while the hologram of the Compound hovering above them evaporated. A city map appeared in its place, flashing white at the intersection of Winick and Churchill.

Covering her ears, Tek slipped off the console and fell into its seat. She read its screen between blinding red flashes. "This thing says it's a…Teen TroubAlert? Do they seriously call it that?" she shouted.

Emerald annoyance struck the overhead beacon, shattering its bulb and smashing its speakers. The klaxon whimpered silent as Starfire lowered her hand. "Well, what's all that fuss about? Is it them?" she asked.

With a few keystrokes, Cyborg focused the map on the intersection. Images and text appeared next to the blinking Titan sigil marking the emergency. "No," said Cyborg, intrigued. "But I think we might wish to respond anyway."

Beast Boy knocked his metal scalp and scoffed. "All that hardware of yours must be glitching. What do we care about that idiot?" he asked, and waved at the picture on the map. "We're waiting for the Tyrants!"

Tek rolled her eyes. Behind her, the shadows surged together, forming a portal that produced a white-eyed Raven. "You so just want to take your new chassis out for a cruise, Metal Face. Just cop to it already," said Tek.

"I said there would be time for fun later. 'Later' just happens to be now," Cyborg said. Grim delight spread in his face as he strode from Ops with his team in tow. "Titans, go…"

**To Be Continued**


	26. The Low Road: Trading Out

**

* * *

Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**The Low Road**: _Trading Out_

In matters of high super-science, any fool with at least one eye or ear knows there is no finer source than S.T.A.R. Labs. There are over two dozen of their research facilities in the Continental US alone. Each facility is renowned for possessing, developing, discovering, containing, or unlocking a wealth of miracles in almost every discipline of study one can imagine.

From weaponry to medicine to extraterrestrial botany, S.T.A.R. Labs is the place to be, and the facility at Jump City is among the best of their best. It sits just outside the city limits, a veritable fortress of knowledge and equipment, a treasure trove of technology.

But in a pinch, Kord Industries is almost as good. And they're located downtown on the bus line, too.

The doors of Kord's Jump Laboratories burst apart with an explosion that made neither sound nor heat. Pure luminescence pushed the opulent double doors into a barrage of broken glass that peppered the police barricade outside. The half-circle of police cruisers rang with shards, forcing the officers crouched behind the cruisers to take cover.

Lieutenant Smith of the JCPD SCU swept the hat from his head and beat the glass dusting off his clothes. The old fedora sparkled with the remnants of Kord's doors as he seated it back atop his snowy hair. "There are cops out there that go their entire lives without discharging a firearm. How is it the same eight idiots wander through my town and make me shoot at them every time?" he blustered.

Crouched behind the wheel well next to Smith, O'Callaghan risked a peek over the hood. "We lead charmed lives, Lieutenant," he quipped. Then he yelped and ducked, saving the part in his hair from a ray of light that melted a hole in the boutique across the street. "Any ideas?"

"Yeah. Keep your fool head down," Smith grunted. He leaned back on his hands and, with a swift kick, broke the side mirror off the cruiser, making O'Callaghan wince. Picking up the mirror, he poked it up over the hood, using its reflection to watch the light show emerging from the doors.

O'Callaghan clutched his pistol and scowled. "Every time we send this idiot to prison, he just shows back up packing more than the last time. What does it take to keep him down?"

The light in the door began to fade. "Quiet," Smith growled, and angled his mirror. "Looks like it's time for his speech. Spread word to hold off until my say-so. Maybe we'll get a chance to hit him while he's jawing."

Before the half-circle of cruisers appeared a nimbus of dancing lights. As it left the building, it coalesced into the shape of a man, and then faded into black armor trimmed in white. Features grew from the light, twisting into a hooked nose and a cruel sneer set beneath a haughty glare.

"Fools!" crowed Doctor Light, master of the photon and three-time public enemy of Jump City. "You come before me with bullets and cars, with flashing lights, with sirens and badges? You are but moths trailing after the moon! You seek to snuff the very sun itself!"

"Is it just me, or is he a few bulbs shier than he was the last time?" O'Callaghan muttered, and tapped his skull. Smith hissed him silent.

Light unveiled from his belt a small device, which he flourished in his hand. The ovoid lens he held glistened in the sunlight, shimmering with a thousand shades of blue at once. "Behold," he announced, "what these fools have created in unwitting tribute to my luminence! The Superior Solar Collector, a cell of unparalleled collective capability! With the power of this Collector, I shall—"

As he brandished the scarab-shaped Collector over his head, a single shot barked from the cruiser barricade. The Collector shattered between Light's fingers. Its priceless fragments swirled in the vortex of the bullet, showering the air behind Light with dancing motes that caught the sun.

Light gaped at the shards, and then down at the barricade, where a fedora and a pistol vanished behind the hood of a cruiser. Apoplexy flared around the effulgent villain. "You dare?" he bellowed.

"Nice shot!" O'Callaghan said, bracing his back against the cruiser as Smith ducked next to him.

Smith kept his feet beneath him as he crouched, clutching his hat in anticipation. Experience had taught him all too well of what happened next. "Quit yapping and break for the rest of the squad," he snapped. "When that idiot hits me, you open up with—"

The cruiser next to them rocked on its rusty shocks in the grasp of a glowing white claw. Tentacles of light wrapped around the car to pluck it from the ground. O'Callaghan scrambled into a sprint for the remaining cruisers while Smith backed away from his rising car.

Shadows vanished from the street beneath a flood of Light. The villain smiled against a barrage of low-caliber annoyance ricocheting off his aura. He gestured, willing his tentacles of light to raise the cruiser high above the old cop glaring at him in defiance. "Now you see what happens to mortals who stand against the divine Light!" he decreed, and threw the car.

A wall of night manifested between Smith and the hurled cruiser. Smith flinched beneath the cold shadow barrier as it trembled against the shattering blow of the car. Metal howled and crashed to the street in ruinous slabs of wreckage, sliding down the shimmering barrier.

Light snarled at the barrier, gathering his aura into a blast that would hole it and the nuisance it protected. Then a shout down the street turned his head. His gathering blast dissipated in a wave of fury that flared him blindingly. "You!" he snarled.

Cyborg stood at the edge of the scene, backed by five heroic teens in the air and at his side. He raised his fist to Light, and said, "What happens to those mortals? They turn the Light out."

Unarmored, Tek stood beside him. Embarrassment creased her brow. "What the hell was that?" she asked Cyborg.

"I don't know," Cyborg drawled, lowering his fist. "It just…slipped out. Sorry."

Bushido shook his head. "That was plum awful, Boss. Just plum awful."

Light's eyes blazed with six shades of hatred. His hate spilled into his aura, where it spread and lifted him from the pavement. From his maelstrom seat, he bellowed, "You dare oppose me? You miserable children! You haven't an inkling of what you face. The Collector was to be a mere symbol of my power. I am more than enough to overcome six petty infants!"

Cyborg's arm reassembled itself to face Light's glow with brimming sound. Squaring, his shoulders, Cyborg rallied his Titans with a wave of his cannon. "I'll grant you that the quips need work. Let's practice together, shall we?"

Anticipation shone green in Starfire's hands. "Dibs on the head," she purred through wry lips.

"Titans, take him!" Cyborg bellowed.

* * *

The smell of blood lingered still in Ops. It clung to the air, where it would refuse any attempt at purging it from the room. It clambered up Kid Wykkid's nose, insistent, nauseating, and too familiar for his liking. He wished he weren't so comfortable with the smell. It appealed to a side of him that he loathed.

He knelt in Ops upon a brown, crusted circle inscribed with a star. The drizzled circle flaked to the touch, but its stain would never leave the carpet. Likewise permanent was the unseen effect of the circle. A light chill persisted in the sunny room, one that bypassed Wykkid's skin entirely. This circle had done terrible things. Were the carpet to be removed and replaced, the circle would always remain a dark stain upon the room itself.

Hands folded, head bowed, Wykkid meditated on the pentagram beneath him. Gossamer strands of the circle's considerable magic stretched into the ether around him. There were six strands, all intertwined. When Wykkid tugged on the twist of strands, he felt something inside of him tug in response.

Plates clattered in the kitchen behind him. He jarred from his trance annoyed, and turned his red glare upon the back of Ops.

"Hey, Wykkid," Shimmer said. Her head and chest were submerged in the fridge, rummaging through its leftover bounty. Behind her wriggling hips, a pair of bare plates and glasses sat on the counter. "How's it coming?" she asked, sight unseen.

"Poorly, at the moment," hissed Wykkid. He rose and drifted toward the kitchen. "It turns out that magical analysis doesn't work so well with distractions. I told everyone to stay out of Ops while I tried to figure this out."

Shimmer left the fridge with every item of food that hadn't grown a white coat. It was a small pile, which she dumped onto the countertop. "You've been at it for hours. None of us have eaten all day. In fact, I don't know if this skank has ever eaten," he lamented, and rubbed his stomach. "Five minutes. Then I'm gone. I'll make you a sandwich."

The shadowy edge of Wykkid's cloak bristled. "You can't be serious. After what I said last night, and after this fiasco, you're still doing this? I told you, I don't—"

Bristling back, Shimmer slapped a loaf of bread on the counter. "Fine," she snapped, and divided the remainder of the loaf between the plates. "I'm making two sandwiches on two plates, both for me. And if I forget to take one of the plates with me when I leave, no big deal. What do you think? Should I make both of my sandwiches with mayo?"

Wykkid whetted his glare on Shimmer's stony face as she poised her butter knife over an open jar of mayo. The smell of food wrested control of Wykkid through his hidden nose. Deep beneath his cloak, a rumble teamed up with Shimmer to win the day. "…sure," Wykkid hissed.

Shimmer spread victory across her face and mayo across her bread. "Sounds good. So how's the hoo doo going? Before the obnoxious distraction, I mean. Any chance you can reunite me with my rod and reels?"

"You need help. Serious, blunt, concussive help," Wykkid hissed. "And no. Whatever they did, they did over in that pentagram, and whatever it was, it tied us and them to that spot. Something powerful is maintaining the spell, but it isn't here."

Finishing the sandwiches, Shimmer picked one, and filled her face with half of it. "They scooped our personal parts out of our meaty parts and swapped them from here?" she asked in a spray of food. "I thought the Compound had protection against that sort of thing. I saw you putting creepy symbols on a bunch of the struts while it was going up."

Wykkid shook his head. "The wards in the Compound prevent physical entry. I never anticipated an attack like this. It's…" His gaze wandered across the floor to the magnificent bay windows that walled the room from the ocean. Calm waters rippled outside, peaceful in more ways than one.

Out here, the empathic noise of the city was all but nothing. Whoever Wykkid was, he had a demonic essence, and an awakened third eye that gave him marked appreciation for the island's isolation. He had missed this place more than he knew.

Shimmer finished her sandwich. She belched bits of lettuce from her teeth, and rubbed the flat expanse of her stomach. "Man, that was probably years overdue," she said.

The silent foghorn behind him made Wykkid look back. He felt a world of turmoil behind Shimmer's plastic smile, which Wykkid knew she wore for his benefit. Her coddling drove him mad, but more, he felt tepid concern. "What…what about you? Are you…okay?"

She smacked her lips in thought. "I don't think so," she said. Her chin dropped to her chest as she ran her hands between the leather straps binding her. "I mean, once the shock wore off, it wasn't as bad. All-access pass to Boobtown, right?"

"You understand the feminine experience so well," Wykkid hissed, feeling his concern vanish.

"But…" Shimmer's voice dropped to her feet in a murmur. Her hands came to rest at her taut leather leggings. "This isn't what I'm supposed to be. And I don't like it. I wanna be me again."

Wykkid's red gaze fell into his own cloak. An eternal darkness writhed beneath. Whatever he had been was corrupted beyond recognition, eaten from the inside by forces both repellant and familiar. But even still, Wykkid wasn't quite so longing for the body he had lost.

"It isn't easy, being trapped in someone you hate," he hissed.

Shimmer glanced up. The worry left his face, replaced by a smile so bright, so fake, that it hurt Wykkid to look at. "Hey, it's not all bad. While you were up here playing CSI: Hogwarts, I was practicing with my new schtick. Watch this."

She gestured to the empty glasses on the counter. Her fingers swirled above one of the glasses. Jutting her tongue from her tight lips, Shimmer focused on the empty contents of one glass. The air inside began to churn in time with her finger.

"Witness the amazing Skankini," Shimmer muttered. "Able to conjure from an empty glass…one drink of pure, mountain-fresh water!"

His fingers flared out. The glass melted from its rim down, trickling into a puddle of clear water. The puddle spread over the counter and dribbled off the edge, splattering the floor with Shimmer's chagrinned efforts.

Wykkid watched the water fall. "You astound us once again, Skankini," he hissed in deadpan.

"Right. Well, making simpler stuff from harder stuff has been easier," Shimmer said, scratching her head. "I'd better go practice more." She left for the door, abandoning the wet mess.

"You do that. I should give counter-spelling another try," Wykkid hissed.

"So eager to ditch your new tackle box?" Shimmer called back.

"Some of us are happier with a net," Wykkid hissed in retort.

Shimmer cringed through the closing doors of Ops. "You're gross, K-Dub."

"Your metaphor." Wykkid watched the closed doors in contemplation. He leaned against the counter, and then lifted a dripping arm from the mess. Looking down, he spied the second sandwich, marooned on a plate in the middle of the puddle.

He rescued the sandwich, and bit into its corner with begrudging gratitude.

* * *

Jinx kept her hands folded in her armpits as she paced the halls of the Tower. Her elbow brushed against the wall. She stayed a healthy distance from the window and its panoramic city vista for fear of shattering it with an errant thought.

Her surroundings mocked her with its familiarity. Its soft gray colors and soothing surf's assonance tried to convince her that she had returned to her first home. Physically, this was in every way the place she remembered. But it was not the same, and her body was proof of that. Every time she looked at the glass and saw her distraught reflection, she was reminded that this place was Tyrants Tower now. This was no home of hers.

A ghost of silver and gold haunted the hallway ahead of her. It stood draped in a silken black pall that cascaded down its back. Its eyes dissected the distant city, unwavering, searching for something with such intensity that Jinx thought it would break the glass.

"Blackfire?" Jinx intoned. Neither her presence, nor her hush voice, stirred Blackfire's stare. "Blackfire, are you okay?"

Blackfire's gaze shortened to the inside of the glass. There she found hateful violet eyes staring back at her. It churned her stomach to see those eyes watching her, judging her, as they had not so long ago on a remote island. "How am I to be 'okay' with this, Jinx?" uttered Blackfire.

Wincing, Jinx said, "Right. Stupid question." She kept her hands folded underarm as she approached. "I don't think any of us are taking this well. Except maybe Billy. But Ravager says—"

"I do not care," Blackfire said brusquely.

Jinx recoiled from Blackfire's biting tone. Her lip vanished under her teeth with worry as she watched Blackfire glare at her own reflection. The alien beauty's face was drawn taut, clenched at the sight of itself. Tension enough to bend steel quivered between the muscles sculpting her silver bodysuit.

"This, uh… This isn't just about the freaky switch thing, is it?" Jinx asked meekly. "What's wrong? Do you want to talk?"

Blackfire turned slowly, impaling Jinx with misplaced hate. "My sister kidnapped me and tortured me under some ruse of rehabilitation. Only now can I see such actions were not even remotely, misguidedly altruistic! She only wished to fix me so that she might steal me!" Her dagger eyes narrowed, and rounded back on the window and its reflection. "Is that talking enough?"

Jinx's rubber lips flapped for an answer. It took three tries for them to voice a coherent thought. "I…I'm sorry. I don't exactly know what happened between you two, but—"

"No," Blackfire snapped. "You do not. You have no idea what it means to be betrayed by blood. To have someone you lov..." She choked. "…someone you loved take everything from you. So do not pretend to understand or sympathize. You can do neither, and I have no need for both."

Her scowl ran back to the city, far away from Jinx and the Tower. Jinx stepped from the wall, trailing pink sparks from behind her armpits. She mashed her hands deeper underarm as she watched Blackfire leave without moving from her vigil. The distance between them grew with each passing second.

"Yeah. Good talk," Jinx murmured, and slunk from the hallway, her head bowed so Blackfire wouldn't see her cry. A monster stalked her, stepping nimbly through her thoughts. It rumbled with a ravenous growl.

* * *

"Well, screw you too," Ravager snarled at the blank monitor wall of the Mainframe. He kicked the base of the massive computer bank, rolling his chair backward until it struck and stopped against the massive cooling towers behind him.

No matter what he tried, the Tower's computer systems refused to activate. They appeared to be in some form of a slow-cycle reboot, trapped between functionality and stasis. Any attempt at a hard restart would mean disconnecting the computer's secondary and tertiary power supplies, which could take hours that Ravager couldn't spare.

He glared at the darkened monitors. The monitors glared back with a handsome face he was quickly growing to loathe. Hunger pulled hard on the insides of his armor, a far cry from the power readout that used to occupy the corner of his vision. As he pushed out of his chair, he felt tendons creak against the aching muscles in his legs. He felt the tiny rush from standing up too fast that would never happen with a dedicated internal management system.

And the worst, absolutely worst part of this was that a small, secret part of him was relishing this nightmare experience.

Billy Numerous stood waiting for him in the hall. His visor left the ground when Ravager stormed out of the Mainframe room. He read Ravager's face, and remarked, "I take it your investigation yielded no good news."

"The computers are down. All the way. And they aren't getting back up for at least another twelve hours. Sons of bitches made sure we couldn't access anything once we got here," he said. His frustration focused at Billy, and he added, "Why are you still here? I thought you were going to check out the lower floors."

A second Billy rounded the corner. "I did," he said. Three more Billys followed behind him. The red band mingled around the first Billy, trading nods as they formed a quintet that wreathed Ravager in irritation.

"We have searched each portion of the Tower," another Billy reported.

Ravager waited expectantly while the Billy fivesome brought their hands together in a huddle. Their heads bowed in concentration. Seconds crawled by, dragging with them Ravager's brittle patience. He tapped his foot, crossing and uncrossing his arms. His brows sank deeper into his eyes, until at last he burst, "Well?"

"A moment," the first Billy said.

Another Billy chimed in, "Splitting ourselves is a simple matter."

"Like making a copy," a third Billy added.

"But merging multiple memories and perspectives is—"

Their huddle poured together into a red blur. Five gasps became one set of twisted lips. A unified Billy emerged from the blur and braced himself against the wall, his breathing ragged.

"My…" He clutched his stomach, and then emptied it against the wall with a heave. Wiping his mouth, he said hoarsely, "My apologies. I do not like…that. And…"

Ravager inched back from the pooling vomit. "…yeah. Uh, find anything?"

Billy clutched his temple. "Mnh, no. None of my selves appears to have found anything noteworthy in the Tower." The color trickled back into his features, which relaxed with the subsiding nausea. He straightened with a deep breath, and said, "It appears they removed or secured anything of particular use before our arrival."

"Damn," Ravager mused through his teeth. He had expected the answer, but felt no less irritated by it. "But still, they didn't lock 'us' here. And I've got a wall full of weapons waiting for me in Ravager's room. We could walk out the front door, fully armed, right now. It doesn't make sense."

"Perhaps we should wait until the computers restart," Billy said. "There could be some clue as to their true intentions—"

Ravager shook his head. "With a full crew of renegade Titans running loose in the city? Not an option."

Rage choked his voice and drove his legs. He marched from the spot, forcing Billy to jog to keep up. A wall of weapons waited for him upstairs, weapons Ravager intended to put to use against the thief who had carelessly left them behind.

"Round everybody up and meet in Ops. If Wykkid can't fix this right now, he's gonna teleport us back to the city," Ravager said over his shoulder.

Eight Billys stepped out of the original. After a moment's disorientation, they dispersed down different branches of the hall through which Ravager and the original Billy marched. "It seems as though they want us to find…'us.' What if this is a trap?" Billy asked.

"Then we trip the trap, draw them out, and make them damn sorry they pulled this stunt," Ravager snapped. "We're taking back our city and our bodies before those idiots wreck either one."

* * *

Pure phosphorescence roiled against Cyborg's chest, washing him off his feet. He plowed through the Plexiglas shelter of a bus stop. Its clear walls crashed on top of him, melting in the intensity of Doctor Light's blast, and molded into an impromptu prison.

Hovering above, Light hardly had time to laugh at Cyborg's plight before he had to sweep a light-screen in front of him. Waves of packed plasma hammered the screen. The flashing bolts drove him steadily back until he struck the wall, where the force of the bolts pinned him behind his own shield.

Tek squinted past the flash of her repeating cannons. Her visor zoomed upon Light to guide her aim. Amusement rang from her grille. "Now I know why they call you 'Light.' Would you like to call a time-out and catch your breath, or should I just cook you now?"

Sweat dribbled from Light's scowl, sizzling against the screen shoved in his face. "Arrogant child!" he bellowed, as the reserves of his suit emptied into his aura. The air shimmered to either side of his shield, stretching with a brilliance that Tek's visor could not filter fast enough.

Tek flinched, ceasing fire. She shielded her eyes with a smoking arm from the afternoon light coalescing into a massive, muscled pair of appendages that floated beside Light, each one the size of a bus and dexterous as the hands that orchestrated them. Before she could yelp, the giant hands framed Tek and clapped, slamming her at either side with light and force that rattled her to the core.

Light's construct hands cupped the dazed armor, lifting it from the ground. "Which one of us is the lightweight now, child?" he boomed, and juggled her between the enormous pair of palms.

As Light lifted Tek higher, he saw a ball of shadow launch from the ground. The ebony comet boiled, its surface glistening, broken only by a luminous scowl meant for him. Sneering, Light bid his constructs to hurl Tek into the comet.

Tendrils lashed from the comet, batting aside the troublesome armor. Tek crashed through the third story of an office building as the comet continued unperturbed. Rising equal to Light, the comet slowed. Its surface rippled away from its luminous scowl, revealing a blue cloak fluttering within the darkness. That darkness condensed into twisted sickles grasped in pale fists.

Light remembered this one. His innards trembled with the memory of a terrible cold, a cold that glistened hungrily in her blades. For just a moment, his voice faltered, forgetting his mastery over all things brilliant. "Y-You stay away from me!" he screamed.

Raven dove at him, soul-sickles raised to cleave through his shield and his body in the same stroke. Panicking, Light drew his constructs into himself, draining their glow into his. The total of his power burst from him in a radiance that painted the entire block impossibly white. Raven staggered in the air, hissing wordlessly at his flare. Her sickles collapsed into lost thought. She was helpless against the concentrated blast he planted in her chest.

He drew back his smoldering fist, smirking at Raven's fluttering shape trailing through the roof of a police cruiser. The car warbled as it ate Raven with a metallic crunch. Cackling, Light felt his confidence surge. He drank the day around him to replenish his stores, and cried, "So must darkness yield to Light!"

Flickering motion pulled his attention to the ground. Four stories below, he saw a white shape waving silver at the sky, and beside it, a green shape that could not decide on its size. Light descended upon them both as he gathered the day into an impregnable skin.

Bushido stood at the bottom of a streetlight, his foot braced atop its base. He reached up at the glowing figure overhead wit his outstretched sword. "Consarn it!" he cursed, "I can't reach the bugger! C'mon down, Bulb-face, and I'll show you some real action!" Throwing daggers sputtered out his flapping sleeve, jangling on the street as he swung uselessly through the twenty feet of air separating him from his target.

Beside him, Beast Boy crouched and glowered. His outline blurred as he morphed back and forth between a menagerie of tiny birds and his disgruntled, elfish self. "C'mon! C'mon! Get big!" he muttered whenever he had the vocal cords to do so. His feathered counterparts squawked with frustration, but refused to become anything bigger than a pigeon. "Big! Big! Big!" he cried between morphs.

A luminous mallet crushed the shapeshifter into the pavement, leaving a circle of cratered earth surrounding a dazed green parakeet. The mallet's impact threw Bushido from the streetlight. He fell to the sidewalk, his sword skittering out of reach, as Light bore down upon him.

"Y'all think you're pretty tough? Try this!" Bushido threw out his hand hard enough to dislodge the waist of his keikogi from the teal sash around his waist. Tiny pellets ran underneath the white cloth and dribbled out his untucked top, and burst at his feet into a cloud of smog that consumed him whole. The sound of his coughing escaped the expanding edge of the cloud. The rest of him did not.

Light raised his hand, summoning a storm of motes from his aura that could shred the cloud and anything unfortunate enough to be caught within it. But his world reeled at a tremendous blow that strained the aura at his back. He tumbled through the air, shoring the broken aura over his bruised spine. When he righted himself, he saw his golden attacker, and scowled.

Starfire floated above him. She drew back her boot and smirked through his glare. "This bunch isn't the brightest," she said, "but there are some perks to working with them. Like letting them flail around until they finally make an opening."

Pain gnawed at Light's back. He traced the dent in his armor with his fingertips. "It will take more than one underhanded blow to beat me," he growled.

She sniffed. "Then again, with some people, you don't really need an opening. Just your own special brand of overwhelming superiority." Emerald arrogance flooded her eyes and hands. She thrust both at Light, filling the air with a vibrant stream. Light vanished into the vibrancy, which poured around him to strike and scar the row of buildings behind him.

Her laughter drowned out the sizzling heat of her starwave. She clutched the beam from her fists and cooled her eyes, expecting to find some crinkled remains of bone melted into the building across the street. Instead, Light hung in the wake of her wave, brilliantly green.

His white smile resonated from his green aura. "Hmm. A different flavor. A bit hard to digest. But still light. Thank you for the recharge, my dear."

A serpentine beast emerged from Light's aura, stretching to fill the sky with its emerald bulk. Its jaws split wide, shrieking white light. Its eyes shone for Starfire, leading the rest of its winding body in a rush at her.

"Oh, f—" Starfire bucked in the jaws of the starwave beast. It drove her back through the brick side of Kord Industries, diving through floors and rooms, pounding her with the building's innards until at last the creature dissipated. Shambles fell through its fading body, entombing Starfire.

Light bayed laughter at the line of police huddled beside their cruisers. With a wave of his hand, he molded the daylight into a ramp, on which he strode down to face them. The glowing ramp eroded behind him as he stepped upon the ruins of the bus stop at the corner. A metal arm stirred from the melted Plexiglas.

"Do you see?" Light said to the police, standing over the struggling metal arm. "Do you see what your resistance buys you? Pain! Suffering!" He drew his aura into a great construct once more, one tremendous hand, which he plunged through the Plexiglas.

The hand emerged in a spray with Cyborg caught in its grasp. The Titan's waist groaned beneath Light's phantom grip. Sonic blasts from his cannon did nothing to the hand around him.

As the helpless police gathered behind their grizzled, glaring lieutenant, Light held aloft the Titan for them to bear witness. "Stand against me, and I shall crush you as easily as I do this cretinous child," Light announced. "Let his death serve as a warning to—"

"Excuse me," Cyborg grunted suddenly.

Anger flared in Light's face. His construct tightened, straining the metal struts beneath Cyborg's plating. "What?" demanded Light.

Cyborg pointed his sonic cannon at Light. Its aperture widened until its tip was a glowing beacon of blue. "I just realized," Cyborg said, "you can hear me."

Two hundred agonizing decibels poured over Light in a wash of blue that blared from the cannon. The pure noise pierced Light's aura, which could stop the cannon's normal compression waves, but not simple sound. Any living person within half a mile could do nothing but clap their hands over their ears and pray that the damage would not be permanent.

Light dropped to his knees with a scream no one heard. His aura faltered. His construct faded, dropping Cyborg at once. The Titan ceased his sonic shriek and launched his foot through Light's jaw, lobbing the villain high and away.

Cyborg watched Light bounce to a stop against the bumper of a police cruiser. The officers beside it still had their hands over their ears with pained faces. "Thank God for filtered audio," Cyborg muttered to himself, and tapped his aural implant.

The ground shook behind him at Tek's crouched landing from her third-story leap. Bits of building shook loose from her dusty armor. She straightened, giving his mechamorphing arm a nod. "Quick thinking, Metal Face. I'm just glad this tin hat of mine does more than cover my bad haircut," she quipped.

"What?" Bushido shouted at them. "What'd y'all say?"

He staggered toward them, coughing hard and blinking away tears. One hand remained clamped to the side of his head. His other hand dangled behind him, dragging Beast Boy by the collar. The shapeshifter sat curled in a ball, protecting his pointed ears with his whole body, seemingly oblivious to Bushido's manhandling.

Bushido grimaced. "Would somebody give me a hand with Booger Head here?" he shouted.

The ruined front of Kord Industries rustled. From the wreckage climbed Starfire, who wore a coat of drywall dust and splinters throughout her hair. She floated toward the team, trailing bits of building behind her disgusted look. Her shadow surged, growing luminous eyes and a cloak that fluttered out of the street to become an aching Raven in Starfire's wake.

"Well," Cyborg said to the ragged bunch. "That was certainly bracing, don't you think? I believe we all learned something valuable from this experience."

Four dirty looks burnished his smile. He ignored them for his own hands, which he inspected with growing amazement. In all his travels, through strict discipline, he had mastered a thousand different means of combat. He had honed his body into a weapon. But the sensation of actually being a weapon left him breathless. He wasn't sure if he even needed to breathe anymore, or if his body simply did so out of old habit. He found it ludicrous that anyone would bemoan such power.

"Hey."

Lieutenant Smith's blunt voice broke his reverie. Cyborg turned on instinct, willing his hand into a cannon. Its aperture burgeoned with compression waves that would tear Smith's smiling face from his body.

"Easy, kid," the old cop said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "The fight's over. You won."

Tension in Cyborg's face eased. He relaxed his cannon back into a hand and watched Smith wade fearlessly into their midst. "Yes. We won," he echoed.

Wriggling a finger in his ear, Smith said, "Next time, though, you might want to try taking him down a little more quietly. I'm going to be hearing that for a week. Which is probably how long it'll take to run the paperwork for this mess of yours. Have you kids ever managed to end a fight without lowering property values?"

"Yes, well…" Cyborg glanced between the other Titans. Starfire stood behind Smith with murder dancing in her eyes. Beast Boy looked the same, albeit through a twisted expression as he clutched his ears. Quickly, Cyborg stepped to block them from the old cop, and said, "Er, you know me, Lieutenant. 'Booyah,' and all that. Do we… I mean, would you like, uh, some help containing Light?"

Smith snorted. "Why don't I just skip to the end and pin my badge on you while I'm at it? SCU has things under control here. You kids scram before I decide to take this mess out of your allowance."

"But of course," Cyborg said, oozing graciousness. "Titans…?"

As he ushered his team from the scene, Smith's voice stopped him. "Oh, and kid?" Cyborg turned around, and was jolted by the sight of Smith's hand hovering between them. "Thanks for the save," Smith said.

Slowly, Cyborg reached for the hand. Try as he might, he could not wrap his head around the handshake and the smile Smith offered him. No one, for any reason, had ever thanked him for tearing a part a street, or for hurting another human being.

"Try not to make pulling my ass out of the fire a habit. I'm saving the last of my dignity for my next divorce," he told Cyborg, and then left the Titan standing stunned in the middle of the street. To his recovering officers, he bellowed, "Okay, you mooks. Break's over. Get back to work before I find some more kids to remind me how much I overpay this sorry zoo dressed up like cops!"

Cyborg lingered between the Titans and SCU leaving the battlefield. Staring at his hand, he tried to pin down the torpor inside his chest, if only to identify what it was. Pride? Satisfaction? He didn't know.

* * *

The shadows receded into Kid Wykkid's cloak, returning sunlight to the back alley behind the pizzeria. His fellow Tyrants staggered from him wearing the chill of teleportation. Wykkid tilted his hood against the scathing sun, and hissed, "This is as close as I can take us. Any closer and I risk setting off the Compound's wards."

Rubbing his arms, Billy chattered, "How bad would that be?" He stumbled back against a dumpster, which smelled wrongly of cheese and tomato and killed any remaining hunger lingering in the Tyrants.

"Bad," Wykkid hissed archly. "Particularly if you're the one doing the magic. We'll have to walk the rest of the way."

Derision steamed from Shimmer's nose. "Oh, that'll be awesome. Let's all stroll down Main Street. It's not like they won't try and lynch us for all the crap these bodies have pulled in the past, what with all the murder and mayhem. Heck, let's stop along the way for some lip gloss. I'm feeling chapped."

Jinx massaged the last of the cold out of her limbs. She raised an eyebrow at Shimmer's snarky expression, and said, "Wow. You make kind of a bitchy girl."

Shimmer rubbed her stomach and frowned. "I know, right? I hope this is PMS or something. Otherwise it means the only thing keeping me happy are my b—"

"Shut up," Ravager hissed from the mouth of the alley. He clung to the shadows, skirting the edge of the sidewalk. Cautiously, he peered outside. The edge of the Compound came into view as he tilted his eye around the corner. But between him and it lay dozens of obstacles all going about their early afternoon business.

The foot traffic on the sidewalk hadn't noticed them yet, but wouldn't last. The street outside showed early symptoms of rush hour. Too soon, the traffic would consume every inch of pavement and sidewalk between them and the Compound. It would matter if it was one block or one inch.

Ravager slunk back from the alley mouth. "The place looks quiet. At least they didn't trash it. Yet," he said.

Blackfire crossed her arms. "We should infiltrate the premises as stealthily as we can. Perhaps Wykkid can airlift us across the rooftops so that we might enter from above."

"A sound plan," Billy said, earning him Blackfire's disgust. "We could slip through the skylight above Sector Prime."

"The second you touch that roof, about ten different overlapping multi-stage countermeasures will trigger," Ravager told him. "You'll be stunned, blasted, gassed, zapped, and locked in a stasis bubble before all five of your little piggies settle down."

"Oh." Billy's expression dropped. "Not so sound, then."

Jinx hugged herself. "Remember the good old days? Back on the island, when every jerk with a super power would just bust into our home whenever they wanted? We're the jerks with super powers now. Why can't we do it? It shouldn't be that hard?"

Some small modicum of good humor returned to Billy's face. "Ah, yes," he said, reminiscing.

Ravager scowled. "Well, excuse me! Jerks like 'us' is the reason I stepped up security. Wearing mugs like these, pretty much the only place we could walk up to without getting shredded would be...the lobby," he trailed off.

Shimmer bounced up and down, pointing at Ravager's furrowed brow. "Oh, I know that look. That's a light bulb look right there. Roll with it, Big R."

"The lobby won't blast us right off the bat. If we go in through there, I can reprogram the security measures," Ravager mused. "That way we could enter the rest of the Compound—"

"—without being turned into chunky salsa!" Shimmer finished. "Ha! I like it. Let's do it!"

Irritation burned red in Wykkid's hood. "Aren't you two forgetting our original problem? 'Lobby' means 'front door.' 'Front door' means all kinds of people are going to see us waltzing into Titans Central. People who aren't exactly going to be glad to see us."

Shimmer soured. "Out come the pitchforks and torches. I've seen the end of that movie."

"The lobby is not an ideal location for a twelve-person metahuman brawl," Billy added. "Such a fight could likely spill out onto the street, where said people would be likely caught in the fray."

The mounting obstacles piled into Ravager's teeth, where he gnashed them. "I'm not saying it's not a gamble. It's not like we can evacuate the area, and if the 'Titans' are inside, I might not have enough time to fix the computer."

"There's no way we make it to the lobby without drawing attention," Jinx said.

"Perhaps…" Billy cupped his chin in thought. "Perhaps that would be best."

No one spoke for a moment. The idea fell from Billy's thoughts and bounced between them, rebounding off their shared, hesitant glances.

"Dude…" Shimmer said, squirming.

Wykkid bristled with cold. "This is asinine."

"This is outrageous!" declared Blackfire. "Would you truly have us—"

Ravager silenced them all with a shout. "Hey! I'm not exactly loving this idea, y'all. But I don't see a whole lot of choice." He drew a long, wicked saber from its scabbard on his back, swinging it down, gauging its heft.

Worrisome sparks drifted from Jinx's wringing hands. "This is… I can't…" she muttered.

She stiffened under Billy's encouraging hand on her shoulder. "It is not so bad. I promise. And you don't actually have to hurt anyone."

"Right!" Shimmer said, and pounded her open palm. Her enthusiasm dwindled when no one else made a move for the street. Hesitating, she said, "Uh, so…how are we gonna do this? Like, is it 'laugh and smash,' or 'smash, then laugh?'"

Ravager sighed, massaging his eyes. "Just shut up and go," he said.

* * *

Shadows receded into Raven's cloak, bathing Ops in the skylight's shining smile. Raven staggered back from the rest of her freshly-teleported teammates and clutched her stomach. Her luminous eyes squeezed shut as she groaned.

"I hear ya, pal," Bushido said, and slapped Raven on the back. "I'm getting' pretty sick of being stuck in this greasy wonton, myself."

Raven clapped a hand across her mouth at Bushido's slap. A burp laced with bile escaped her fingers. She elbowed him out of the way and ran, doubled over, from Ops.

Cyborg's smirk followed her to the corner, where she disappeared. He spread his arms entreatingly to the grumble that undercut the rest of his Titans. "Come on, everyone. Getting bored with your new toys already?"

"I'm going to go find a mirror for some intelligent conversation," Starfire sneered, and floated off the balcony. Her fingers combed through the tangled mess of her hair, which ran to her feet with bits of glass and chips of wood. "You mouth-breathers can call me when something actually worth my time comes up."

"Toys," Bushido muttered under his breath, and stalked out of Ops. He scratched his sore back, accidentally dislodging a pair of kama strapped underneath his clothes. They clattered out the back of his keikogi. "S'all I got is toys, y' rotten, ro-bottin' sorry-sorry excuse for…"

The resentment in Beast Boy's glare scalded the smile off of Cyborg's face. "Not all of us got cool robot powers, ass. Some of us just got a bunch of dangling issues." He grasped his belt, hoisting his pants as he stalked after Bushido.

Shaking his head, Cyborg turned back, and stopped short at the sight of Tek splayed atop the central Ops console. She traced the lines of her skin suit, eyeing him through a fringe of black hair.

Hunger lurked in her smile, which purred, "I'm not bored with my new toy. In fact, I was wondering if you wanted to play with me."

Excitement pulled him into the console's seat. Caution kept his hands clutched at the armrests. "Really? You've been awfully short with me today," he said as he watched her arch toward him.

Tek slunk into the seat with him. She poured into his lap and curled her arms around his neck. It took her a moment to settle comfortably against his chassis. "Well, you've been a real blowhard lately," she cooed, and teased his chest plate with her fingertip. "But seeing you out there, with all your little accessories, saving the day…" Her finger traced his lips.

He ran his hands down Tek's smooth second skin. Tactile sensors painted her outline in delicious detail. She was soft and strong, sculpted with subtle curves. She was new, but familiar in ways that made them both tremble. "I like you without the metal," he murmured into her ear.

"I like you _with_ all the metal," she purred, and ran her tongue along the armor of his chin.

They writhed together, a giggling pool of hormones creaking in one chair. Days' worth of disagreement evaporated in the heat of their lips. Hands roamed across bodies that were fresh and excited. Soft gasps hissed from their fervent kiss.

Then a hollow _thunk_ rang beneath Tek's hand. She froze, her lip caught in Cyborg's teeth, her hand cupping a seamless expanse between his legs. Their widening eyes locked as she patted down his armored groin. Embarrassed, she pulled her lip from his, and asked, "Uh, how do I…"

"I…" Cyborg buzzed, desperately diagnostic. His excitement faded as his exoskeleton's features poured through his vision. None of the functions he wanted were listed in his catalogue. "Oh. I, um…I don't… Oh."

Tek slid back, her face burning, her voice cooling. A gulf yawned between them in the cramped chair. "…oh. Wow," she said.

He coughed.

A small miracle answered both their silent prayers. The air above them flashed with Ops' holo-screen, displaying a map of the Compound's grounds and the surrounding neighborhood. The Teen TroubAlert beeped at them, demanding attention. Cyborg silenced it with a quick keystroke.

Tek watched the screen highlight a nearby section of street on its map. A live video emerged next to the highlight, captured by one of the Compound's diligent cameras. She squinted, forgetting her embarrassment for confusion. "What the hell is that?" she asked.

Cyborg found his smile again in the video feed. He watched the chaos on the street outside from the comfort of his seat in Ops. "That would be Stage Two. Right on schedule," he said.

She half-rose from his chest, aching for a reason to leave his cold lap. "Should we…?"

He leaned back, no longer concerned with the lost moment. Lacing his hands behind his head, he said, "Let's just enjoy the show."

**To Be Continued**


	27. The Low Road: Trading Back

**

* * *

Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**The Low Road**: _Trading Back_

Third Street had been the first to suffer the wrath of the Teen Tyrants. Six months ago, the would-be conquerors of Jump City attacked this revitalized neighborhood, whose shops and residences had scarcely recovered from the last disaster. Years after the brief war between the Titans and Tyrants had ended in a cataclysmic nightmare, many on Third Street would still remember that fateful attack, that random and brutal first strike. The Tyrants' second attack on the neighborhood was far briefer, less memorable, but much more confusing.

The beginning of the afternoon rush hour panicked to a halt in the face of a red wave that consumed the street. Tires gripped the road in screeching fear, their cars abandoned by drivers that fled from the red wave. Pedestrians dove into shops and doorways, hoping to escape the wave, which grew a thousand sneering smiles as it drew closer.

"Come, my villainous brethren!" the lead Billy Numerous called back to his horde of likenesses. He leapt atop an abandoned car, posing on its hood to point out the looming Compound at the end of the block.

Another Billy leapt over him, landing on the car's roof in a more dramatic pose. "Yes, onward! Let us drink deep of the cup of victory, and sup on the Titans' demise!"

Pale hands shoved through the crest of the Billy wave, parting it for Shimmer to burst into the lead. "Hey, dinguses! This isn't Masterpiece Theater. You do it like this!" she said.

She gestured to the sidewalk, where a gaggle of early commuters huddled in fear. A fire hydrant planted in the sidewalk in front of them bulged as its red skin evaporated into hydrogen smoke. Water erupted from the uncapped main, spraying a geyser that soaked the stricken commuters and the Billy horde.

"Mwa-ha-ha-hah!" Shimmer bellowed at her soaked, fleeing victims. "Fear the dampening powers of Professor Skankalor!"

"I thought your name was Shimmer," a nearby Billy said.

Shimmer shrugged, evaporating the geyser's spray as it fell upon her. "Meh. I'm not in love with it."

Shadows passed over Shimmer and the Billys, calling their evil attentions overhead. Kid Wykkid floated above the street in the throes of his cloak. Three negative cars soared alongside him, their colors made monochromatically stark by the touch of his soul-self. Where he passed, the summer air grew cold and stale, making even his fellow Tyrants shiver from the inside out.

Terrible light filled his hood as a red mouth opened beneath his red eyes. "Run away," he hissed in booming reverberation. "Flee. Go already."

His soul-self trickled out of the hovering cars. Glass and steel sang as each car dropped into another one abandoned on the road below. Screams erupted with each crash, and again as Wykkid's soul-self selected new cars to lift into the air.

"Honestly, where's the showmanship?" one Billy clucked, and shook his head at Wykkid's rain of subcompacts.

Shimmer and the Billys ducked involuntarily when a bus sailed overhead, this one not guided by anyone's soul. The double-length bus arced and nosed into the street, chewing a trench through the pavement with its momentum. Cars flipped aside at its coming. Fear-frozen pedestrians ran screaming from the bus's rumbling stop. Its crumpled door sighed open one last time, and then fell off its hinge.

Blackfire leapt through the wake of her. She burnished the street with a war cry, and pounded the ground with her heel. The street cracked and heaved beneath her, the pavement's groan drowning out the screams of the panicked crowd before her. They ran faster, crushing each other to escape the wave of blackbolts she flung over their heads.

Billy blinked, and looked to himselves. "Of course, there is the other extreme to consider," he said.

"Excess has its place," another Billy said, nodding sagely.

Behind the creeping Billy horde, Ravager marched with a saber drawn and face bare, glaring at the mass hysteria that boiled away from their approach Each scream stabbed his ear, cutting away his resolve in small, torturous slivers. Each step he took toward the Compound cost a little more of himself.

He sheathed his saber and unclipped two orbs from his equipment belt. "That's good," he said loud enough for the back edge of the horde to hear him. "Slow, steady, and plenty of property damage. Give people time to clear out." He tossed the orbs to either side. Each orb rolled beneath a parked car, which then jumped atop a sharp explosion.

Jinx flinched at the exploding cars. She wormed her hands tighter into her armpits and jogged to catch up to Ravager. Hopping briefly on her tiptoes, she said, "I don't see them. Us. Whatever. Maybe they aren't in the Compound."

"Then this'll draw them back fast enough," Ravager said, and holed a mailbox with his gauntlet's laser. "They won't want to give up the place without a fight." Turning his scowl upon her, he added, Why aren't you up front? You're like a pink, sparkly wrecking ball."

Another car dropped ahead, dying in a _crunch_ that drove Jinx's teeth together. Pink sparks jetted from her buried hands as the screams reached her. "I just…It's really loud right now, Ravager," she said. Another scream, and her eyes clenched, bottling a roar in her head.

Ravager held back a second pair of grenades. He slowed, watching her cringe with every crash and scream. Concern blunted his sharp eyes, if only slightly. "Kid, you gotta keep it together," he said. "I know you're—"

Her eyes snapped open, blazing with chaos. A gust of wind arose from nowhere to shove Ravager back from her. "I know!" she snapped. "I don't need to be babied!"

The air around them stirred, rippling with uncanny heat. Ravager stepped carefully, keeping his hands raised between them. "Easy, kid. Easy. No babying, I promise."

Just as quickly, the chaos in her eyes reordered into shock. The air around her died, struck dead by the alarm in Ravager's face. Jinx clapped her hand over her mouth, and squeaked, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…I didn't…I'm not gonna lose it, I swear. I swear, Ravager, I won't. Please—"

Ravager lowered his hands. He hid his concern behind a soothing voice. "Okay. It's okay. We're all feeling like jerks right now. Just concentrate on keeping it together. Just until we find…us. Okay?" She nodded to him, and tried to turtle her head down her collar. He sighed, and said, "All right. Now, let's—"

A silver shape stomped down in front of them, cracking the street as it startled them back. Blackfire straightened, brushing debris from her bodysuit. "The way is clear," she announced.

She pointed across a phalanx of Billys to the tranquil grounds of the Compound. The screaming masses had fled the street entirely. Only the crackle of unattended fires and the gush of an absent fire hydrant cried out to the Tyrants.

"Right," Ravager said. "Let's move."

He broke into a run, with Jinx trailing behind him. Blackfire leapt overhead, crossing the distance in a single bound to join Shimmer and Wykkid at the double doors of the lobby. Racing between a crowd of merging Billys, Ravager joined them a moment later, stopping himself against the metal handle of the doors. Pausing for a sharp breath, he yanked the doors open and barged through.

Intellectually, he knew that the Compound's defenses would not reduce him to sentient oatmeal in the lobby right away. Still, he held that sharp breath until his fourth step inside, when Blackfire and Wykkid entered after him. Shimmer held the door for the single, unified Billy, who staggered to his knees and dumped the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Jinx came last, cracking the glass as she passed.

"Okay," Shimmer said, looking around. "Home sweet lobby. Now wha—"

Thick metal shutters slammed down over the doors and windows. The Tyrants jumped together as the lobby atrium flashed red with emergency. Klaxons protested the Tyrants' presence while the air shimmered with pink pixels that came together into a smile.

A SARAH Sim manifested before them, her pink skirt-suit flashing cherry in the emergency lighting. "Hello! You have been identified as potentially hostile aggressors. You have ten seconds to submit to voluntary incarceration before you will be forcibly detained."

Hands clapped to the sides of her head, Shimmer shouted to Ravager over the klaxon, "Your computer wife is mad at you! Quick, program some flowers and chocolate!"

"Sarah," Ravager shouted, "Endgame: Vader Six!"

The pervasive red left the lobby. The klaxon stopped. Nodding to Ravager, Sarah chirped, "Welcome to Titans Compound! Do you require assistance with your emergency?"

Uncoiling from his cloak, Kid Wykkid hissed, "What exactly happened here?"

Ravager jogged past Sarah to her desk at the end of the lobby. Pressing a hidden switch, he summoned a small computer terminal from the whirring interior of the desktop. "I programmed a bunch of last-chance scenarios into our system. That one was in case we needed to add one of our nasty acquaintances real quick for a team-up. It grants everyone under the code temporary, honorary Titan membership."

Wiping his mouth, Billy said, "Why would you ever wish to grant an enemy instant access to your… I am going to stand quietly now." He brushed the front of his uniform and faded into the background, away from Ravager's reproachful look.

"Here's the plan," Ravager snapped, and emptied his scabbards into his hands. "Spread out. Wykkid, take Ops. Everyone else, check-and-go on your way up. Keep within earshot. We'll secure Sector Prime and make our stand there when they get back. Sarah: door."

"Of course," Sarah chirped. "Welcome to the Titans." The security door ratcheted open, spilling light into the fluorescent hallway. As Ravager rushed past her, leading his Tyrant pack, she called after him, "Shall I inform Cyborg of your arrival?"

Ravager made it through the door before the words registered with him. Half-turning, he skidded, and exclaimed, "Inform who of my—?"

Sonic waves converged on Ravager's chest, blowing him off his feet. He slammed back into Blackfire, who staggered with the blue flash as he bounced off her chest. The rest of the Tyrants backpedaled behind Ravager as he pulled himself onto his knees to glare at his attacker.

The Teen Titans stood across Sector Prime, lined up like an execution squad. Cyborg anchored the line at the far left, and retracted his sonic cannon with a ready grin. He made a show of checking his arm's display, and said, "My, my. I am so disappointed. Really, was traffic so bad that it took you this long to get here from Tyrants Island?"

"Traffic didn't look so bad over our fancy cameras, Cyborg," Tek, unarmored, called from the line's opposite end. "In fact, it looks like they just blew right through it."

Shaking his head, Cyborg said, "Just like a villain to keep you waiting, isn't it, Tek?"

Ravager struggled to his feet, biting down on his wince. He had been shot with sonic cannons before, but never with so much skin or so many organs to feel it. Sudden sympathy for all the people he had ever shot came to him unbidden, fueling the cauldron of rage that bubbled where his thoughts had been.

"Give us back our bodies," Ravager snarled.

"Hmm…" Cyborg hummed loudly, tapping his chin. Metallic pings echoed from his alloyed smile. "How about 'no?' I rather like my body just the way it is, thank you. Minus one or two features, but I think I can figure out ways around that."

Bushido guffawed and slapped his knee. "Y'hear that? We're the heroes now, cow pies! Y'all are nothin' but stinkin', low-down, no-good lowlifes. How's that jigger you?"

"That's it?" Shimmer snapped. The air roiled at her shout. "No stupid speeches? No, 'This is so daddy will love me' monologues? Just 'no?'"

Starfire beamed, her face becoming a toothily smug crescent. "Speeches? Those are your department now. We're the mighty heroes. Glorious, golden, shining, and stalwart," she said, and ran her hands down her sides as she turned her smile upon Blackfire.

"Well put, Starfire," Cyborg said. "Now, why don't you run along and rob a bank, or something? We'll handle things from here."

The cauldron in Ravager boiled over, spilling white-hot hate into his veins. He quaked, and clutched his sabers to still his hands. "You think you can just take everything away from us like that? You think this is funny?" he bellowed.

Cyborg smirked. "I think I already have."

Stratagems and reason withered in the heat of Ravager's rage. He could only think of taking back Cyborg's smug face, even if he had to cut it off to do it. He swung his sabers up, and bellowed, "Tyrants Together!"

Cyborg's smirk fell with his shout. "Titans Terrorize!"

Sonic blasts bracketed Ravager's charge. He ran at the scattering Titans, trying not to think about the way his feet pounding the floor sent shivers up his shins, or how his chest thumped with exertion. He ignored the sweat trickling down his back, and the hair in his face. Bobbing and weaving on instinct that wasn't his, he ducked Cyborg's shots. His only concern was tearing Cyborg open and yanking out the parasite inside.

The edge of a sonic blast ruffled Ravager's hair as he landed in a crouch before Cyborg. Ravager's sabers flashed, tearing apart the cannon's aperture between blasts. Cyborg cried out as he stumbled back. He deflected a saber from his neck with his arm, kicking a spray of sparks into his face.

"Take care, Ravager," Cyborg said, and reverted his cannon into a scarred hand. "You could really hurt someone—"

Ravager roared and stabbed. The tip of his saber found a subtle seam between plates in Cyborg's chest. His sword plunged through, severing lines and tearing servos, turning components into useless, broken tumors. Hydraulic bile bushed from the wound as Ravager yanked the blade out. Cyborg slackened, trying to scream, producing a choked sigh instead as he dropped to his knees.

"Guess you didn't think this through, Cy," Ravager said. He circled around and kicked Cyborg's shoulder, shoving the heavy Titan onto his face. "I know every inch of that tin suit you're wearing. Including the primary motor function hub I just julienned. Course, you'll just reroute in a few seconds…"

He grasped one saber in two hands and plunged it into Cyborg's back. The space between the Titan's shoulder blades burst with pressurized fluid. Cyborg tensed, and then fell limp, wheezing in pain.

Jerking his blade free, Ravager continued, "…to 'that' backup hub."

A hooked weight swung around Ravager's head, trailing a chain that snared his neck. The hook vanished behind him as the chain drew taut, pinching shut Ravager's airway. He gurgled and grasped at the chain. Laughter struck the back of his head, coming closer with each jerk of the chain.

Bushido shortened the chain hand over hand, pulling himself toward his catch. "Well, ain't that a right pretty sight there? I finally get one o' these here toys to work, and wouldn't y' figure, it's on the boss-man himself." His foxy face shone with delight. "Ninja Boy for the win, hombre."

"Ahem."

Twisting his grin over his shoulder, Bushido saw a single Billy standing behind him. His grin doubled as he drew his katana with one hand, using the other to keep the chain taut. "Well, ain't you the handsomest devil I ever did have t' kill? I gotta say—"

"Yes, you clearly do," Billy sighed. "Let's fix that." The one Billy exploded into five, who each split again, who leapt forward in a gymnastic blur that filled Bushido's vision with red.

The swordsman swung blindly through the blur surrounding him, only to lose his sword to a chop that made his wrist scream. He flung daggers from his sleeves, pellets from his sash, and poison needles from his collar. He emptied his keikogi into the blur, tearing through the garment for more weapons, until finally he stood bare-chested and unarmed.

The blur surrounding him stopped. Ten Billy duplicates encircled him, each of them holding one of his weapons. They tightened their circle around Bushido with the resolve of a hangman's noose. The Billy with the katana swung his blade upright in mocking salute. "I believe you got the worse of our exchange. And never call yourself 'ninja.' It demeans you."

The besworded Billy stepped away from his duplicates' ensuing massacre of Bushido. He knelt beside Ravager, who gasped and coughed with his throat in hand and a chain draped around his shoulders. Ravager's voice crawled from him, withered and weak. "That's twice that guy's tried to kill me," he said.

Helping him stand, Billy said, "You must admit, his first attempt was far more impressive."

Ravager coughed up a bitter little laugh. He leaned heavily against Billy and watched the remaining duplicates stomp Bushido out of the fight. "They're not gonna…?" asked Ravager.

Billy shook his head. "No broken bones. No ruptured organs."

"At least he's getting the ass-kicking he's always needed," Ravager quipped hoarsely.

He and Billy flinched at a golden shape streaking overhead. Then they were knocked aside by a shapelier silver shape that chased the golden sprite. Violet and emerald stars shot between the chase, swamping the air with the smell of ozone. Black scars mottled the floor and walls all throughout Sector Prime where their chase had led them.

"What's the matter, Big Sister? Feeling too heavy to fly after me?" Starfire sang as she flew backwards. Bolts leapt from her hand to chew the scenery around Blackfire.

Blackfire batted aside the starbolt barrage. Her eyes blazed, cutting a swath above her that trailed behind Starfire's evasive laughter. "Come down here and face me!" Blackfire screamed.

Twirling in the air, Starfire lilted, "Why? Why should I? I could just leave right now. Leave the planet, leave the system. I could go back home and be the daughter Mother and Father always wanted. I'm the favorite now, Blackfire. I'm the one everybody loves."

"You are a monster!" Blackfire ran into a leap that carried her to the second level of the cavernous hall. Her boots bent the railing as she bounded off the edge and into the open air. She caught Starfire's pirouetting toes and yanked, turning the sprite's laugh into a yelp that followed them both into the floor. Tile belched into the air as both sisters cratered, trapped in a tangle of limbs.

Starfire rose first. Yanking back Blackfire's hair, she drove her knuckles deep into Blackfire's stomach. "You whining little girl! You always have to be the special one! Well, now I'm special!" she bellowed, and buried her fist in Blackfire's face. "I'm the favorite now! Everyone will love me, just because I'm small, and helpless, and weak! Ketar, Komand'r, rutha pek'tal! Rutha! Rutha!" she screamed, and hammered Blackfire.

Blackfire's scowl blazed, punching Starfire to the edge of the crater. Blackfire drove her heel into her sister's eye, and screamed back, "No one loves you!" She kicked, and screamed, "You are weak! You are small! He left you because he did not love you! He hates you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

Her boot ran red with blood as she stomped the world out of Starfire's eyes. Starfire fell limp against the crater's side, her glow extinguished. Heaving, Blackfire dug her fingers into the concrete foundation to quell her trembling. She turned her head, unable to stand the bloodied sight of Starfire.

A green gazelle leapt over her crater. It stood on its hind legs and staggered into the shape of Beast Boy. His feet slipped in opposite directions, splitting the rest of him onto a floor that was rapidly dissolving into water.

Shimmer sprinted around the crater's edge and tackled Beast Boy from behind. Her arm hooked around his throat, her legs around his waist, as he reeled onto his feet with the Tyrant clinging to his back. Her fist pounded the side of his head as she snarled, "Gimmie back my dude-dangle! Give it, or I'll tear it off, you handsome sonofabitch!"

The molecules of the floor kept dividing into simpler liquids, confounding Beast Boy's balance. "Ow! Leggo!" he cried. Then he gagged on her arm, which tightened across his throat. His claws raked Shimmer's forearm to no avail. He fell backward, caught in her grasp, unable to breathe.

"You good-looking, lima-skinned, rotten, slut-dressing…" Shimmer beat his head and squeezed his neck and bit his pointed ears and kicked his back, all while the world around her took itself apart.

Beast Boy burst from Shimmer's grasp in a wave of fur and quills. A hideous roar cut his mouth into a muzzle that slavered hungrily. Dark, empty eyes turned upon Shimmer, eyes that rose to tower over her atop a massive frame of sinewy muscle and claws.

Shimmer scrambled backwards on all fours, gaping at the creature. Its growl touched her deep in the pit of her stomach, exciting a fear in her older than civilization, older than language. She became prey beneath its glower. Trembling, she stammered, "Y-You…It's you, i-isn't it? Y…You're real?"

The beast stopped its claws around her throat. Its toothsome face lowered to hers, tasting her with its snub nose. Its eyes stared through hers, watching her tremble. Its growl trailed off with a snort. With one final _whuf_, the beast pulled back. Meaning filled its hollow glare, a silent message meant for what lay behind Shimmer's wide eyes. Then the beast shrank.

Beast Boy lolled where the beast had been. His eyes danced in their sockets. "Wh…Where did I go just now?" he murmured.

Shimmer answered with the crunch of knuckle on bone. She spun Beast Boy to the floor, and then kicked his head until he left the fight. Hunched over him, she caught her breath, and said, "Yeah. That was messed up…and ow!" As she breathed, her broken hand caught up with her thoughts, steamrolling over her surprise. She clutched her hand, and said, "Ow! Son of a… Is my head really that hard?"

A wall of shadow rushed from underneath her to block a second shadow culled in the shape of a spear. The spear point pressed hard against the wall, reaching for Shimmer's throat. Shimmer yelped and fell back as Kid Wykkid emerged from the wall and thrust his wizen hands against the spear's encroaching tip. "Yes," Wykkid hissed. "Now pay attention, or you're going to die."

Raven appeared behind the hovering spear from a smoking ball of nothingness. A wicked grin cut her face as she grasped the shaft of the soul-spear. Bracing against the air, she shoved the spear, stretching its point through the wall toward the folds of Wykkid's flickering cloak. Her glowing eyes shone through the strained soul-wall.

Wykkid clapped the point of the spear as it pierced his soul-wall. The tendons in his hands threatened to burst through his paper skin as he kept the tip from plunging through his chest. "You're obviously not bush league," Wykkid hissed to Raven as the spear inched closer to his heart. "You pulled off an impressive piece of magic, swapping our minds and souls like this."

Raven's grin twisted with murder. She lurched forward, putting her metaphysical weight into one last killing stroke. But her hands slipped down the shaft, which refused to move. She jerked and pushed, but the spear hung frozen in the air, deaf to her whims.

The essence of Wykkid's breached wall drained into the spear, pouring through Wykkid's fingers into the tip. His bloody glare flashed as he hissed, "But you still made a mistake. My power is my soul, and it still outclasses yours, no matter which glorified sausage you shove it in."

An enormous ebony raptor took form from the spear. It stretched its scything wings, overshadowing the horrified Titan still clutching its leg. Raven backpedaled from its snapping beak, which caught the edge of her cloak. She swung from its mouth until it tore the fabric, launching her into the floor. She bounced twice and did not rise.

Wykkid huffed with spent concentration. His soul-self dissipated overhead. Shimmer's hand kept him on his feet. "That was pretty awesome," Shimmer told him. "But you know you're not supposed to hit girls, right?"

"Keep it up, and I'll hit another one," hissed Wykkid.

They both were bowled over by a crackling pink storm that rushed through them, panting in panic at the tremulous pursuit of Tek's armor. Jinx felt the Titan's giant metal grasp reach through the cloud surrounding her. Cold fingertips grazed the back of Jinx's neck, making her run harder.

"No!" she cried. She tried to focus some of the hex that spewed from her, but its crackle and flash refused to let her think, and the pounding footfalls behind her kept her running at breakneck speed.

"Hard to control, isn't it?" Tek called, laughing tinnily. "All that chaos, just aching to explode out of you. You're like a walking bad luck charm, and you just can't stop."

A loose piece of floor caught Jinx's toe. She stumbled over the debris, slowing just enough for Tek's grasp to catch her. The armor's hand wrapped around her chest, crushing her arms into her sides. Jinx yowled as the floor dropped out from under her. The hand tightened, squeezing the rest of the air out of her.

As Jinx struggled to breathe, Tek's glossy scowl filled her face. "Now, this?" she said, and gestured to her armor. "This is easy. Just think it, and the suit does it. No control, no effort. The only difference now is, underneath…" She tapped her chest. It gonged under her knuckles. "Now there's a real fighter under the hood, not some sniveling nobody."

A sliver of air wormed into Jinx's lungs. She used it to fight back the blackening edges of her vision, and then pushed it back up her throat as hoarse words. "You're right…" she choked.

"About you? Duh," Tek said with a hidden sneer.

The pink sparks dancing in Jinx's skin vanished. In their place arose a pink blaze, a crackling membrane of chaos that consumed her whole. Jinx let go of the hex, and the inhuman snarl behind it, allowing both to run rampant through her. As the last of her mind submerged into the monstrous hex, she murmured, "No control…"

Every component in Tek's armored arm separated beneath a blinding flash of hex. The smoking pieces rained at her feet, revealing a stubby human arm whose skin suit peeled in the pure chaos. As Tek collapsed in pain, Jinx rose in her maelstrom.

It blazed from her eyes and hands, taking shape around her. A colossus of hex loomed over Tek. Its outline warped with flickering intent. The Tyrant at its heart lifted her arm, directing the grasp of the colossus to close around Tek's helmet. Tek's scream was lost in the crackling chaos. She found it again when the colossus tore the helmet off around her ears, unveiling her horrified face.

Hex billowed through Tek. Every fuse in her armor blew at the same time, burning through her skin suit. A ton of dead metal hung around her as she dangled in the colossus's grasp. It grasped her chest plate and pulled, tearing the entire front off her armor. The metal screamed, and Tek screamed with it. She closed her eyes against the glow of the colossus. Her chest seized.

Thirty seconds later, she exhaled, and opened her eyes. Her dead armor rested on the floor, no longer awash in the dissipated colossus's glow. Jinx knelt beneath her, doubled over, breathing hard. Vestiges of hex wisped off her body. Sweat dribbled from her chin as she looked up and saw Tek's shock.

Sucking a breath through her teeth, Jinx said, "Okay. Maybe a little control." She reached through the scar torn in Tek's armor and drew a small bottle from the trapped Titan's belt. Popping the bottle open, she ate one of its pills, and sighed.

A giant's hand of shadow grasped Tek by the shoulders and lifted her away from Jinx. Wykkid guided the dead armor to the center of Sector Prime, where the other Tyrants gathered their counterparts around Cyborg's still body.

Ravager stepped aside for Tek to be added to the Titan pile at his feet. He waited for Jinx to amble over, and then rested his boot on Cyborg's neck, leaning down to meet the Titan's face.

"I really hope you take a lesson out of all this, Daddy's Boy," Ravager said. "It'll give you something to think about while you're rotting in a six-by-six cell with all your idiot friends. You can't beat us. You'll never beat us."

"Don't matter what we're wearing," Shimmer said, tugging on her leather straps. "We rule."

Glaring bloodily, Wykkid hissed, "Now, you're all going to enjoy a nice stay in our holding cell while your second-class demon teaches me the spell to fix this."

A low, winding cough trickled out Cyborg's parted lips. It thickened into a coarse laugh. "Why wait?" he groaned. "Raven?"

The glow in Raven's eyes faded. She smiled. Ravager realized too late, and cried, "No, w—!"

A cold, fiery presence reached through his chest and grabbed hold of everything he was. He felt himself pulled through a pinhole inside of his stomach. The world around him collapsed into swirling darkness. He screamed without a voice, flailing without limbs against a universe that wasn't there. Time grated him for eons until what remained was raw and empty.

At last, he found his eyes again. He looked through a haze of static at a sideways Compound. Cold tile pressed into his cheek. He tried pushing his body from the floor, and found that his arms and legs wouldn't listen to him. Red letters in his eyes told him that his motor function hubs had been destroyed.

A boot heel pressed into the side of his face. He twisted his eye, and cringed at Ravager's looming face. Ravager swung his saber sharply, testing his arm. Laughter pealed through his smile. "You vainglorious buffoon," he crowed. "You were right. How could we ever hope to beat the mighty Titans in their own home?"

"Ow! Shit!" Shimmer shouted at the top of her lungs. "Is his head that frikkin' hard? Damn it, ow!"

As Ravager laughed, Cyborg turned his gaze back to the floor. The other Titans lay sprawled ahead of him. Raven tried to rise, but was knocked back by Blackfire's sharp kick. Starfire's face floated in a puddle of her blood. Bushido lay in a jumble of odd angles. Beast Boy was little better, facedown in the tile with his hind end kinked in the air. Only Tek was awake, left to struggle whimperingly in a prison of her own armor.

"Wha…What's going on?" Tek moaned. "Cybo…Cyborg? Cyborg! I can say your…! Oh." She sagged with understanding.

Ravager's swing dipped. His saber's tip tasted Cyborg's neck, drawing a line of hemotrolium from the alloy. "So predictable," Ravager said. "You just couldn't wait to track us down and take back your miserable little lives. So desperate to prove yourselves. To prove to yourself that you were still the hero. A little goading was all it took for you to stab yourself."

Ten Billys congregated behind Ravager, laughing and chattering. The foremost of them tossed his katana atop Bushido. "Y'all do the heavy lifting, an' then we swap back," he said.

"Amen, Billy," another Billy hooted.

Wykkid hobbled with his arm slung around Jinx's shoulders, breathing hard. Jinx grinned madly at Cyborg's wild eye as she crowed, "Poor Wykkid here had to put everything he had into keeping everyone in different bodies. When he let go, it was like snapping a rubber band."

Clutching her hand, Shimmer staggered toward the Titan pile. "Yeah, yeah, perfect plan," she muttered. "Except numb-nuts here broke my goddamn hand!" She snatched the katana from Bushido's back and gripped it in her good hand. "Here's your dangle, asshole."

Cyborg screamed for his body to move. He rerouted his systems every which way he knew how. But he was a victim of his own success. He could not move. So he watched his best friend jerk and gurgle as Shimmer pushed a katana through his back.

"Gar!" Tek sobbed. Tears cut her cheeks as blood pooled over Beast Boy's back, pouring down his sides to fill the floor. "No…NO!" she screamed.

"Oh dear. One down," Ravager said. He sneered, and added, "Actually, let's make that one and a half."

Pain howled in Cyborg's back as Ravager sheathed his saber in the Titan's spine. Errors flooded Cyborg's tearing eye. The blade made hash of his electronics, plunged through organs, and nicked the edge of his power core. Shutdown warnings flashed, overlaying Ravager's sneer.

Squatting, Ravager grasped Cyborg's face, forcing him to spend his final moments watching Ravager's triumph. "Well, not to worry. You were kind enough to add six brand new Titans to the roster, weren't you?" Laughing, he said, "I honestly thought you would just disable security to get back inside. But this? You really have done all the work for us. Oh, Sarah?"

The air swirled into a pink-suited blonde with a dapper smile. She chirped, "Yes, Ravager?"

"We'll need to see about disposing of some trash," he began.

"Endgame: Terra Six," Cyborg blurted.

Jinx's hex struck Cyborg too late to silence him, though it skipped him across the floor all the same. As he tumbled, he saw the walls of Sector Prime reconfigure themselves. Panels slid aside, revealing cannons of all manner of shapes and sizes. Blue and green and red and gold energy glowed, lighting the cavernous space in a festive buildup that took aim at six distinct targets.

"What 'n tarnation?" the Billys swore, backing together.

Awash in the security systems' impending fire, Sarah stepped forward and nodded to Ravager. "Hello!" she said. "You have been identified as potentially hostile aggressors. You have ten seconds to submit to voluntary incarceration before you will be forcibly detained."

The menagerie of weapons whined louder, chasing the startled Tyrants back toward one another. They bumped backs in a circle. Crackling nervously, Jinx looked back and snapped, "Time to go. Wykkid!"

Two Billys grabbed Ravager, pulling him into the folds of Kid Wykkid's swirling cloak. "This isn't over, Titan! You hear me?" roared Ravager. "This isn't—!"

The cloak folded around them, and then upon itself. As it shrank, its last mote seemed to linger, as though something were pulling against it. Its final, shadowy shard tore free with a loud _pop_ and a wave that pushed through the air.

"No threat detected," Sarah said. The walls around them ratcheted, their pinpoint lights fading back into the panels from which they had come. Stepping smartly, Sarah found where Cyborg had landed, and lifted him as though he weighed nothing. When his lolling head fell toward her, she smiled, and said, "Situation normal. Do you require further assistance?"

Cyborg didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the question. He gasped instead as a bloodied green head poked up from the pile of his friends. "Gar!" Cyborg shouted.

His shout made Tek look up from her tears. She nearly wrenched her arms off trying to leap out of her armor to hug the shapeshifter struggling to his feet. "Gar! You're alive!" she sobbed, and wriggled to no avail.

Beast Boy staggered toward Cyborg, dripping blood from the sword that wagged in his back. "Tuh…T-Terra. You said 'Terra.' Whuh…?" he said tiredly.

Any relief Cyborg felt left him in a rush of guilt. He motioned with his chin for Sarah to carry him forward. Feet scraping behind, he was dragged to meet Beast Boy. "Another special code. In case…"

Another groan made them turn. Raven rose shakily, clutching her cloak around her. Her hood made the lines around her scowl deeper. "Let me guess," she grunted, limping after Beast Boy. "A protocol that puts the latest recruits on the naughty list?"

"In a nutshell," Cyborg said to the floor, unable to lift his head, unwilling to lift his gaze.

Beast Boy grimaced. "Way to twist the knife," he grumbled. Then he yowled as Raven grasped the katana stuck through him. She yanked it out, making him crumple in pained relief. Panting, he said, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said, and tossed the sword.

Staring up through his brow, Cyborg watched Beast Boy straighten with a deep rumble that bared sharp fangs. Curiosity and wonder filled Cyborg in equal measure as he asked, "Gar, how are you…? I thought you were dead."

"Uh…" Beast Boy froze, his hand poised over the closing wound in his back. "Later? I think we've got some bigger worries right now." He looked back at Bushido and Starfire, who still bled without stirring.

"Guys?" Tek called, still wriggling as the others hobbled toward her. "Uh, 'yay' for winning, but what if the Tyrants come back? I can't even move, and—"

Raven waved away her concern. "Don't worry. Our defenses already got them. They should figure that out as soon as they get where they're going. She hid her satisfied smirk behind her hood and felt the residual thrum of the runes hidden inside the walls around her.

Too quickly, she lost her smile to a steady babble of emotions trickling up from her midsection. "Besides, Garfield was right. There are bigger problems right now," she muttered.

* * *

"Great! Just absolutely, totally great, Grant!" Jinx shouted into his face, scouring his scowl and the rest of the Tower's Ops with accusation. "Look at the wonderful, steaming pile of victory you promised us all. Look!"

She swept her arm to where Kid Wykkid lay, surrounded by a circle of his uncertain allies. His eyes were frozen, mere pinpricks of red light in the smoldering depths of his hood. Smoke wafted from his rigid body, choking the room with the smell of sulfur.

No amount of poking by any number of Billys would rouse Wykkid from his state. One of the Billys pulled his finger out of Wykkid's cloak and wiped it on his leg. "He is good and toasted, folks. I don't know what hoo-doo he pulled to get us outta there…"

"…but damn if it didn't backfire on him like a cheap bottle rocket," another Billy finished.

Blackfire shoved them both aside. Disgust crinkled in her brow as she stalked out the doors. "I've had all I can stomach from you mouth-breathing apes today. Don't bother me until I tell you to."

Following after her, Shimmer muttered, "Ditto that, minus the 'apes' part. I'm gonna go fix my hand and find a drink." She cradled her wrist all the way through the door. Her icy glare lingered long after she had gone.

Ravager stood as a stone against Jinx's tidal tirade. "You're unbelievable. You could have just killed him right then and there. Lopped his head off! We won! But noooo," she spat, her nose scraping his. "You just kept yapping until he beat us with three words. Three! Words! You puffed up, arrogant, useless little—"

His hand moved like lightning. He grasped her jaw, squeezing her cheeks until her lips pursed shut. Without moving, without effort, he drew her toward him, lifting her toes from the carpet. She grasped his wrist to keep from choking, and squirmed at the cold fury glinting in his glare.

"Shut up," he said. "Shut your goddamn mouth, you slattern bitch. You shut up, and you do as you're told, or so help me, I'll run steel through your heart just as if you were one of them. Speak like that to me again, and I will wear your tongue."

He threw her aside and stomped out of Ops. He didn't need to look back. He could feel her glare buzzing against him with bad luck that ached to take him apart.

Ravager didn't care. His innards boiled, churning, pounding against the inside of his armor. The black harness felt as though it were trying to eat him for his failure. Throughout Jinx's rant, he had only heard Slade's voice chiding him. His father whispered to him now, using not words, but a disappointed tone that nearly broke the young Tyrant.

He burst into his room and tore the harness from his chest. It crumpled in the corner, out of sight but not forgotten. Inescapable. Desperate to look anywhere else, he fell into his mirror, grasping its sides. He lifted his eyes and saw a two-toned face staring at him from a rack in the reflected wall.

A small card hung from the mirror. Ravager plucked it from its tape. It was the card he had left before switching bodies with that revolting sack of metal.

Thoughts of Cyborg stirred in his memory. He clenched his hand, remembering the sensation of Smith's gratitude pressed into his palm. The grateful looks of the police, the satisfaction of stopping Doctor Light…in another lifetime, it might have been a worthwhile pursuit. But he had made his choice.

He opened the card. His message had been scratched out. A single word had been written underneath.

"Soon."

* * *

At one minute to eleven o'clock, precisely, Raven roused from her meditation, steeled against the inevitable knock that would bother her before bed. She lowered her legs from her floating lotus position, grunted at the twinge in her leg.

She ran a hand over her fresh vestments. A dozen aches barked from underneath the fabric's sheen. She was healing, but gradually. It galled her to think that she had no one to blame but herself. If she had thought about it, she might have guessed Ravager's scheme.

But she had been angry. They all had. She glanced across the room and found her own reflection glancing back at her. It was a plain reflection, at least to her. Pasty, sometimes dull, and with hair that would never amount to much…but she would fight for it all over again, because it was hers.

Her hand stopped beneath her navel. Her palm wrapped around the bottom of her stomach. Only a truly scrutinous eye could spy the slight curve in her outline, but it was there. It was growing. When she pressed down, she felt the soft babble under her skin grow warm with affection.

She jerked her hand away and closed her cloak. Beast Boy would be arriving any second to pester her. It would only make his visit worse if he saw her fussing over her stomach. He was…

He was late?

Raven checked the clock. It was one minute past eleven o'clock, precisely. She confirmed it on her communicator, and then again on her computer terminal. Tapping its keyboard, she said, "Sarah, where is Beast Boy?"

"Beast Boy is currently in the Wardroom," her terminal said.

All the way across the Compound. So, Beast Boy had finally listened to her. She would finally have a night of peace, free from his inane banter and clumsy condescension. At last.

Raven stood hunched over the computer terminal, making no move for her bed. It was a trick. Beast Boy didn't listen to her. Ever. He was just lulling her into a false sense of security, probably as some weak attempt at a joke.

She waited. The door should have smoldered beneath her expectant stare. Her otherworldly senses stretched into the hall, waiting for that telltale blare of emotions. Minutes passed in silence, unbearable now because at any moment Beast Boy would arrive to break it.

Her foot tapped, anticipating the lashing her tongue would whip into his unwelcome cheer. This time, she would make the notion stick. Beast Boy would leave her alone once and for all. If he ever showed up…

Nothing. The door remained unknocked. She jabbed her terminal again, and snapped, "Sarah, where is Beast Boy now?"

"Beast Boy is currently in the Wardroom."

Raven slapped her door panel before her computer finished answering. She marched into the hall, steering her scowl toward Sector Prime. If Beast Boy wouldn't come by so she could tell him to leave her alone, she would track him down to do it herself, and maybe, finally, have some peace.

She climbed the stairs and floated across Sector Prime, crossing through the moonlight that bathed the battlefield below. Ops stood dark and empty. No one was on monitor duty. Raven didn't notice. She landed at a door on the top level and punched its control.

The Wardroom opened, revealing a room filled with a single, long table of lacquered wood. The other Titans sat along the table, with Cyborg at its head. He wore a large, clunky, blinking device mag-clipped to his chest, with wires trailing from its plug through the breach in his chest plate.

"So, how long?" he asked.

Tek shook her head. "Dunno. It's like a…a pulled muscle. It hurts until it's better. But I'll let you know when it works again. And I can still do monitor duty."

Nodding, Cyborg said, "I might ask you to pick up a few extra shifts in the next couple of days, considering. But there shouldn't be much trouble." He cleared his throat and peered down the table. "Uh, Kory?"

Brutal bands of black and blue masked Starfire's bandaged face. She stiffened in her seat, far down the table from the rest of them. "I ab fide," she said. Her braced nose whistled. Her swollen brow attempted a scowl.

"Right. Ryuko?"

Nodding down to the sling around his arm, Bushido said, "I'm fine. The damage is either temporary or cosmetic." His raccoon eyes twinkled with mirth. "Even I cannot keep me down for long."

Cyborg's faze flickered toward the door. His eyebrow shot up. "Raven? You're up? Gar said you had gone to bed already."

Daggers shot from Raven's eyes to skewer Beast Boy's nervous smile. He deflated in his seat as she frostily replied, "Did he?"

"No problem," Cyborg said, oblivious to her glare. "I was gonna tell you tomorrow morning anyway. I'm taking you off the monitor rotation for the next day or two."

Her glare narrowed into slits.

"Just for a little while," he assured her. "I was talking with Gar, and frankly, after what he told me, I thought you should take some time—"

The windows behind Cyborg frosted with a sudden cold snap that billowed out of Raven. "I don't need any time off," she told him, rocking him back in his chair. "You think I can't pull my weight because of what's happening to me? You think I can't handle it?"

As Cyborg stared numbly, Beast Boy half-rose from his chair. His gaze darted to either shocked side of the table. Plastering on a smile, he said, "Wow, is it late! Raven, would you walk with me back to my room? I'm—"

"And you!" Raven barked him back into his seat. "I told you to leave me alone, and now you're telling Cyborg that I need to be coddled because I have a…a…" She gestured to her stomach, her furious tongue tripping. "—a parasite ready to eat my life from the inside out? You had no right."

"…parasite?" Bushido echoed softly.

Raven drew her cloak tight with an imperious gesture. "Yes. I'm pregnant. Fine. But that doesn't mean you can take me off this team. You can't just throw me away. I won't leave. Not because of some—"

"Gender swap," Cyborg mumbled dumbly.

She froze. The rest of her rant bottled in her throat as she tore her glare off of Beast Boy's clutching chagrin. She watched Cyborg stare, transfixed, at her cloaked stomach. Slowly, gutturally, she whispered, "What?"

Cyborg tried to shake his head clear. "The, uh, gender swap. Gar…Gar was telling me how weird he felt, all the hormones and equipment changes, and I thought if it was quiet that you two could…could, uh…" He gesticulated, as if he could pluck his thoughts from the air itself. No matter where he looked or pointed, it felt wrong. "…you're pregnant?"

Even Starfire's hard, swollen face softened. Her eyes glistened with a thousand feelings that tightened in her throat. "You are with a child?" she asked.

Tek and Bushido both echoed the question with slackened jaws. Beast Boy slumped in his seat, red with sympathy for the horror blossoming on Raven's face.

Raven stumbled backward. Her hand flopped blindly until it struck the door control, shutting away the room filled with eyes. She staggered along the walkway, grasping the rail to keep upright. Her psychic walls cracked from the inside.

She needed to leave. She needed somewhere quiet to meditate, to contain the storm that tore through her thoughts. She fought to hold her walls up with what little calm she had left. She needed to leave.

The sound of a door opening behind her made her jump. Without thinking, she pushed through her own shadow, opening a portal. To where, she didn't know, and didn't care. Someone behind her cried her name, but was cut off when she slipped from the world.

She emerged on the roof of the Compound. The night air was still warm, thick with the smells of the city that walled her in with its lights, and its sounds, and its people everywhere. There were so many people around her, each with a million thoughts and feelings that they shared with her without meaning to. But for the first time Raven could recall, the noise inside of her blared louder than the noise around her.

She collapsed against one of the air conditioning units mounted on the rooftop. As soon as she drew near, the droning metal device coughed up black sparks, and died as she sat against it. She drew her knees to her chest and huddled inside of her cloak, closing her aching eyes to the endless twinkle of the city.

The lights lining the edge of the Compound's roof flickered. One of the bulbs burst with a loud _pop_. Then another.

What a joke. What a cosmic joke. Raven had fought her entire life for control. The monks used to warn her that control would be the only thing that could save her. Not her powers. Not her family. Only by keeping a death-grip on every aspect of herself could she ever continue to exist.

And at the first opportunity, she had thrown it away. For what? For a boy. For a boy who hadn't even loved her. She had experienced twenty minutes of pure, open, free love at the cost of her life, and it hadn't even been real.

She wasn't dying. But the monks had been right. She had thrown away her control in one moment of weakness, and now her life was over.

And the punch line of the joke was, she couldn't even have her control back again. No matter how much or how often she meditated, the damned child growing inside of her kept bombarding her with its emotions. Simple, pure, mindless…it never stopped. It never quieted. It destroyed her concentration, and made her fly off the handle and make an ass of herself in front of her teammates. Former teammates.

She needed to leave. She would have to leave. And she hadn't realized it until she thought Cyborg was making her leave. This life was no life for a mother, to say nothing of a child.

She couldn't stay. She had to leave.

Another source of simple emotions approached her, moving cautiously across the rooftop. She felt his concern even above the din of her own torrential turmoil. She hugged her legs tighter, and gritted her teeth.

Beast Boy said nothing. He walked slowly, softly, lowering each step onto the rough tar paper. In the time it took him to reach her by the air conditioning unit, she could have crossed dimensions and escaped with time to spare. But she remained huddled beneath her cloak as he leaned up against the side of the unit.

"It's…It's really loud out here, isn't it?" he said. He stared out at the city. Its sights and sounds and smells poured into him, yelling secrets at him that no one else would ever know. "What did you call it? Overwhelming? Yeah. All of those people at once. They're in my nose, in my ears…but I can't imagine having somebody inside of me. That's…it's gotta hurt. Right?"

"Why won't you go away?" she moaned into her knees. Another light bulb at the edge of the roof burst.

He sighed. "Look, I know it's been a long and crazy day. Personally, I'm gonna go sleep for three days straight, and then I'm gonna go drink, like, eight gallons of Gatorade so I can pee standing up forever. I just wanted to tell you something before you shut everybody out."

A long, shuddering breath emptied her chest. She dug her fingernails into her legs, and braced herself. "What?"

"I am never gonna leave you alone. Ever. Never-ever."

Two more bulbs popped at the roof's edge. Raven squeezed her eyes until they hurt.

He leaned heavily against the air conditioning unit and stared out at the city. "Look, I know you've got this whole cooler-than-you goth thing that makes you all aloof. And that's cool. It's your thing. So if you need to pretend like you're all alone, then fine. I'll give you some space.

"But I'm never gonna stop bugging you. I'm gonna be there for the next million years, trying to get you to smile, or dragging out to watch stupid movies with me, or teasing you about your smelly herbal tea, or hiding whoopee cushions in your books, or any of that.

"And when you start getting bigger…well, yeah, there're gonna be some fat jokes," he said with a shrug. "What can I say, I like the easy ones. But I'm not gonna stop there. I'm gonna keep pestering you to eat. I'm gonna make sure you're sleeping when you should, and staying away from caffeine that's not in chocolate form."

He leaned over the edge of the unit, speaking directly onto the top of her hood. "And let's face it, when the kid comes along, you're gonna have to buy him twice as many toys, 'cause I'm gonna want to play with them too. And I'm gonna teach him to whine, and whine, and whine, and whine until you buy us both ice cream. Hell, I'm gonna teach him all the best swear words, especially the ones that aren't quite swear words, but should be.

"And it's not just me. Everybody downstairs is freaked out, 'cause they're wondering what they're gonna do to help. Not if. What. Ry's even talking about baby names. What do you think of 'Yoshi?' I guess it was his grandfather, or something. Personally, all I can think of when I hear it is dinosaurs, but that's me."

He trailed off, watching the edge of her hood ruffle in the warm breeze. If he didn't smell her, he might have thought she had teleported out from under her cloak. Rising slowly, he rubbed the back of his neck and said, "That's, uh…that's really it. You can pretend to be alone all you want. But none of us are going to leave you alone. You're stuck with us. Sucks to be you, huh?"

He stepped back. "Yeah. Well. Um, goodnight, Raven. Get some rest, okay?"

As Beast Boy walked away, he heard a murmur riding the soft breeze. Anyone else would have missed it, but his ears heard it clearer than anything ever said to him in his life. "Don't…"

He stopped, and turned. Raven hadn't moved a muscle since he had arrived. He could see nothing but her cloak, and her boots peering out from under its edge. She flapped in the wind, curled tight in a ball against the air conditioner. "What?" he asked.

Another light at the roof's edge fizzled and popped. He heard a low sound escape her cloak, choked, and almost drowned out by the sound of soft sniffles. "Don't go," she whispered.

Beast Boy paused on the rooftop. He knew that if he sat back down, Raven wouldn't want to talk. She wouldn't apologize for accusing him of blabbermouthery, or for yelling at him. He knew for a fact that she would only grow worse from here, now that her secret was out.

But he was walking back to her even before he finished deciding in his mind. He sat down on the roof with his back against the air conditioner, and folded his hands in his lap, and sat next to her without a word. What else could he do?

He stayed.

**To Be Continued**

* * *

This story arc…didn't turn out quite the way I thought it would. But there it is, all the same.

Next time, the Titans bite off more than they can chew when they take on the most powerful force on—or orbiting—Earth. And one of our Titans will finally discover where she came from, and why she's here. Stay tuned for **Lost Little Girl**, coming up next time. Until then, keep reading, because the best is yet to come.


	28. Lost Little Girl: Fugitive

_Disclaimer_

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

* * *

_"This is gonna be so awesome!" Tek squealed, and swung her plastic bags. They spun together, knocking into her knees. Colorful packages and rolls bulged in the bags, their colors blurring together. She watched the colors twirl with a giggle. "She is gonna flip," she said as she skipped down the sidewalk._

_Cyborg caught her shoulder with his free hand before she skipped straight into the middle of a bustling intersection. His other hand steadied a long, flat box on his shoulder, with which he tried to avoid braining the other pedestrians waiting for the crosswalk to clear. "That's assuming Caltrans doesn't have to scrape you off the road before we get this junk home," he quipped._

_"Sorry," Tek chirped, and stepped back from the curb. She bounced on her toes, rustling her bags, and exclaimed, "But this is so cool! We never get to have parties!"_

_Her smile got the better of him, wrestling its way onto his face. Cyborg shook his head as he pressed down on her shoulder, trying to still her bouncing. "I'm glad you're excited. Just don't explode, okay? You know how she feels about parties."_

_Tek scoffed. "Why do you think I'm getting so psyched? Somebody has to keep the fun alive. You should help me with that. Power down the negativity and initiate those funk subroutines, Vic!"_

_The light changed. The other pedestrians milling at the curb gave Tek and Cyborg a generous head start, letting them walk ahead. Cyborg watched Tek dance across the street, and laughed. "Okay, kid, okay. What's gotten into you, lately? Did Gar convince you to put sugar on your Lucky Charms again?"_

_She hopped onto the opposite curb and pirouetted, nearly bowling over a bald, heavyset man waiting for the bus. Her bags knocked her chest as she pointed to her smile. "See this? This indicates happiness. I am a happy camper. I camp happily. See my pup tent and roaring fire?"_

_"No, but I see a public menace." He caught her bags and lifted them out of her grasp._

_She let the bags go willingly, and faux-fainted into the crook of Cyborg's elbow, staggering him. "I'm happy, you dork. I've got a handle on my brain, I've got good friends, and I've got balloons to blow up. What more could a girl want?"_

_He cradled her back to her feet. "How about being really cute and having super powers?" he said with a smirk._

_Blush crept across Tek's cheeks. She took back her bags, and said, "Exactly. With all the crap our lives throw at us, why not enjoy the moment?"_

_"'Cause who knows how long it'll last?" Cyborg agreed, and followed her down the sidewalk at a more subdued gait._

_Tek laughed and pushed the blush out of her face. "See, now that you said that, the world's gonna end tomorrow. Just one more excuse to party now…"_

_She froze in mid-step, jerking to a halt so suddenly that Cyborg almost flattened her by accident. He teetered, trying to balance the box on his shoulder without falling on her. Tek's bags dropped to the sidewalk, spilling rolls of crate paper onto the street._

_Her gaze widened into the mouth of an empty alley. It sat between two downtown office buildings, hidden in the shadows of both. A dumpster sat against one wall, its lid rimmed with a slime best left uncomtemplated. A small, squat cement dock sat opposite the dumpster, with a nondescript door that had no handle. A handful of litter, the alley's only occupants, drifted across its stained concrete._

_Tek's back erupted with blue-white light. Tendrils of alloy and components poured out from the light to smother her taut skin suit in white metal. Her armor grew around her until she towered in the mouth of the alley, blocking half its width with strength and fortitude to spare._

_She screamed. The grille beneath her scowling visor made her cry reverberate. Her arms rose, splitting at the forearms to produce squat, strange cannons that glowed white with heat. The armor trembled with terror, preparing to whitewash the entire alley in a plasma hell storm._

_"Tek!" Cyborg threw the box aside, ignoring the crunch of its contents. He lunged forward and shoved Tek's arms down. She stood limp as he blocked her from the alley, stopping her and shielding her at once. His sonic cannon pushed out from his hand to cast the empty alley in blue. But he saw nothing target-worthy._

_The back of Cyborg's head veiled the alley from Tek's view. She shook her helmet, forcing herself to focus on him. "Wh…What? Cyborg? Vic, what happened? Why am I…?" She looked down and touched her armored chest. Her cannons' glow glistened in his metal skin._

_Cyborg kept watch over the alley, his cannon low and at the ready. Behind him, Tek became a flurry of components and a brief blue light before dropping back to her skin suit's soles. He waited a moment more, cycling through every mode of vision he possessed, but the alley held nothing worth attacking. "You tell me, kid. You just went Jason Bourne on this empty hole. Did you see something?"_

_Tek rubbed her temples, wincing. "Nngh…No? No, I don't think so. I mean, there's nothing there."_

_His cannon mechamorphed back into an arm, which grasped Tek's shoulder in sympathy. "Must've been a happy overdose. Your body isn't used to feeling that good."_

_As they collected Tek's lost crate paper, she grimaced, and said, "I guess I'd better find some angst, stat."_

"Pause."

Tek froze, squatting on the sidewalk, her face stuck awkwardly in half a grimace. Her hand stretched out toward nothing. Her crate paper had fallen behind the edge of the viewing monitor.

The meeting hall rang with the pensive consideration of six supremely powerful beings seated around its table. Each of them studied the image of the girl, weighing what they had seen with what they had been told. The fastest of them spoke first, loudly, and with the eloquence his peers had come to expect from him.

"So, that's it?" the Flash asked, and propped his feet on the conference table. "You're worried because some middle schooler in a body sock turns into Gigantor and menaces empty alleys?" He looked around with a sly grin, and said to the rest of them, "I think we should be more worried that Bats is sneaking around videotaping teenagers."

Cloaked in his cape, Batman scowled the Flash into silence. The Dark Knight stood beside the wall monitor, backed by the flickering freeze-frame of Tek. "As you can see, the girl is more than she appears," he said. His hand emerged from the folds of his cape to tap the screen. Its image rewound, and then froze again, this time on the visage of Tek's armor and glowing cannons.

"My sources have found the remnants of laboratories scattered across Europe and North America, each with equipment similar to or matching the readings I've taken off the girl's armor," Batman explained. "It's impossible to determine which of these labs, if any, she came from, but they all belong to the same person."

Superman leaned toward the screen. A glower creased his forehead. It was a look that had become all too familiar to the rest of the Justice League recently. Their cold war with Cadmus had weighed upon his brow for months, and now this new problem threatened to stretch the League even thinner. "Bruce, if this girl is what you say she is…"

"What manner of weaponry is that?" asked Wonder Woman. The glow of the cannons glinted in the tiara perched atop her lustrous dark hair. Her "They look familiar."

A green glare waded through the bright light of the screen to examine the cannons. "They're plasma," announced John Stewart, the Green Lantern of Earth. "Small, too. Probably a custom job, and way too advanced for anything homegrown. I would guess extraterrestrial."

"Well, that isn't really hard to find these days," Flash said. "You can practically get stuff like that at your local gas station."

Shayara Hol shook her head, bouncing her auburn hair behind a dirty look aimed at Flash. Her wings ruffled with annoyance as she said, "This doesn't look like a patchwork job."

"You're both right," Batman said. "I've analyzed the design, and found elements from at least half a dozen alien technologies that have been integrated together."

"This doesn't make sense," Superman insisted. "Why would he stick an amalgamation of weapons into a girl? And for what purpose?"

J'onn J'onzz, the Manhunter from Mars, leaned over the table with steepled fingers. He sat as a pillar of calm, quelling the debate with a sweep of his ominous red eyes. When he spoke, his voice resonated deeply, as though his words came from within each of them. "Forgive me, but isn't the nature of her abilities the secondary issue here? If what Batman claims is true, the girl represents a serious risk to everyone around her."

"Not just collateral," John said, "but every hero that goes near her as well. J'onn is right, we need to neutralize her as a threat before we start answering questions."

"Whoa," Flash exclaimed, rocking forward in his seat. "Neutralize? This isn't your typical robot super villain we're talking about. This one has a creamy kid center. You can't just—"

"She's not just a girl," Batman snapped, killing the retort on Flash's lips. The monitor behind him fell dark at his touch. "You saw for yourself. She's volatile, unstable, and a threat. She needs to be contained."

The room fell silent. A question circled the table, pressing upon each of the League's founders, pushing them away from their center. Squirming, Flash succumbed to the question first, giving it voice. "And then what? Do we 'contain' her forever?"

"We'll do what we have to," Batman told him.

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Lost Little Girl**: _Fugitive_

"I'm in hell," Raven uttered.

She held up a tiny sailor suit, letting its wrapping paper fall into her bulbous lap. The little outfit smiled at her with the face of a cartoon duck on its miniscule chest. A chorus of cooing erupted around her, gushing over the outfit.

Queenie took the sailor suit from Raven. She held it to her chest, making it appear even smaller against her broad frame, which made even the couch look too small by comparison. "Isn't this the cutest thing you've ever seen?" she squealed, and passed the outfit to Rush.

Rush draped it across her arm. She smoothed the duck's smile, and said, "It is! Oh my God, the baby is just going to look darling in this. You can take her for stroller rides down the by pier and show her all the big boats!"

Snatching back the outfit, Raven tossed it onto the growing pile of clothes at the foot of the couch. She heaved a sigh that filled the room. "They can't all be the cutest. Eventually, one of them is going to have to be less cute than the last one. We're reaching the theoretical threshold of cuteness."

A pair of baby booties began waltzing lightly atop Raven's head. She grimaced, and endured the boots, knowing full well whose green fingers were inside of them. Behind her, Beast Boy tapped the booties over her twilight hair and said, "We're nowhere near that limit. And you'd better get used to it, 'cause this kid is just gonna keep getting cuter every day. Better build up a tolerance now while you can."

The Titans and Streetbeat laughed together as Raven swatted the booties off her head. Both teams had gathered in this newest room in the Habitat Wing of the Compound. It was two rooms knocked together without a dividing wall, a recent renovation of Cyborg's that stood largely empty at the moment. He had dragged up a few couches and tables for the baby shower. They, and a brand new crib with a dented corner, were the only features of the bare room.

Jason Hawke stepped back to take in the room. He felt the familiar stab of admiration and envy that pierced him every time he visited the Titans. Smoothing back his dirty blond hair, he said, "This is a hell of a space. You expecting a baby or a small aircraft?"

Cyborg chuckled and handed him a glass of punch from the table behind them. "The kid's gonna need some elbow room when he gets mobile. This'll be his nursery, his room, and his bunker in case things get dicey around here. Once the fortifications go in, Darkseid himself won't be able to get in this room without Mom's say-so."

"His?" Juice echoed, edging past Cyborg and Jason to scoop chips from the snack table. "So you know it's a boy already?"

"No, just hoping," Cyborg said. "But I'm ready for anything. Check this out." He looked up at the ceiling, and announced, "Sarah: it's a boy."

The walls and ceiling dimmed into a rich, bold shade of blue that surprised Raven's chattering entourage into silence. All around them, the room shifted in color, transitioning in seconds without a sound. Even Beast Boy stopped pestering Raven long enough to whistle with admiration at the room's trick.

"Sarah," Cyborg said, "it's a girl."

The room's color shifted again, this time to a shade so pink, it almost hurt to look at. A smattering of applause rounded the room, some of it sarcastic, most of it genuine. Cyborg took his bows regardless.

"Dude," Beast Boy exclaimed as Cyborg reset the room's color to its neutral off-white. "Color-coded for your convenience. But what if the kid's a girl who likes blue?"

"Then we leave it blue," Cyborg said.

Rush looked around, still in awe. This was her first visit with the Titans, and she couldn't believe anyone could live in a place like the Compound. The other Streetbeat shrugged off the opulence of the Titans' home, but she had yet to overcome her own amazement. "But what if it's a boy who likes pink?" she asked.

Beast Boy snorted with derision. "Boys can't like pink. It's a scientastic fact."

A pair of booties wrapped in shimmering soul-self struck him in the nose, chasing him back from the couch. He fought them off with flailing hands while Raven watched on smugly and the rest of the room laughed.

"Whatever the kid is," Cyborg said to Jason, "I'm glad it gave us all a chance to get together. Thanks for coming to the shower. Raven'll never say it, but we all appreciate it."

Jason sipped and shrugged. "Glad to be here. It's nice to hang out when one of us isn't fighting for our lives. Plus, it gives me an excuse to pawn the kids off on someone else for a few minutes."

His grateful expression fell prone as a whining, elongated cry of "Jason!" found him at the snack table. He turned with a readied frown, and found two teens, one blue and one obnoxious, standing behind him. The blue teen tilted his head back to keep the spoon hanging on his nose from dropping.

"What is it, Mag?" he asked, exaggerating his remaining patience.

Holding up a small jar, Magnum whined, "Blink says I have to eat this entire thing of strained carrots. Tell him I don't have to."

"He started it!" Blink said, making his spoon wobble. "He bet me I couldn't stick this spoon to my nose. I did. He lost. Make him eat it!"

"He cheated!" Magnum insisted. "He licked the spoon first. Disqualification for use of saliva!"

"You didn't say I couldn't!" Blink said. "Eat the baby food!"

Jason's scowl vanished behind his hand, which massaged the bridge of his nose. "Are you two idiots telling me you can't solve this on your own? You need me to iron out every little problem you have while you make asses outta yourselves?"

Magnum and Blink shared a look of confusion. "Um, yeah," Magnum told Jason.

"Of course we do," said Blink.

"I thought we'd met," Magnum said.

A bitter sigh escaped from under Jason's hand. "Blink, stop licking spoons. Mag, man up and eat the carrot goop."

Exultation and exasperation burst from either end of the pair. Far behind them, the door to the nursery slid aside, allowing in a new trio. The two remaining Streetbeat entered, ushered in by Tek. She carried Patches on her shoulders, grasping him by his legs, and said to Stripwire, "I dunno. You'd have to ask Vic how…oh, hey. Speak of the digital devil himself," she said, smiling as she saw Cyborg.

Cyborg smiled back. "How was the tour?"

Patches answered for the lot of them with an explosion of enthusiasm. "This place is so cool! They have a tank, and a jet, and a big hologram thingy run by a ninja! Only, don't call him a ninja, 'cause he gets mad," he added sagely, and grasped Tek's forehead to steady himself.

"I take it Ry is doing okay in Ops," Cyborg said. "Well enough to frighten small children, anyway."

He stepped aside at the insistence of a pale hand. Raven pushed past him and sidled up to the snack table. "I offered to trade with him," she said as she filled a plate. "Then he could be down here opening presents, and I could be up in Ops frightening small children."

Though she tried to keep shrouded in her cloak, Raven could not hope to hide the curve of her midriff. Her stomach formed a rolling mountain between her legs and her breasts, a gentle slope that grew less gentle by the day. It poked out the front of her cloak as she leaned back with a light groan.

Tek looked up, exchanging smirks with the boy seated on her shoulders. "Nah," she said. "Patches isn't afraid of big, puffy mommy monsters anyway. They're too slow to gobble him up. Right?"

"Yuh-huh! You're too slow!" Patches jeered playfully.

Raven pierced them both with a look edged with annoyance. Her laden plate hung forgotten in her hand as she pummeled her two-headed antagonist with her eyes. Tek feigned horror and bounced back, crying, "Look out, Patches! She's using her invisible brain-o-vision on us! Quick, we have to run away before she turns us into grumpies like her!"

Patches shrieked with laughter while Tek galloped him around the room. She laughed with him, swinging him to and fro in a desperate ploy to escape Raven's nonexistent attack. Their would-be attacker watched them go, and then returned to her plate. "If only," she muttered, and bit a carrot stick in half.

A quiet sense of pride trickled through Jason as he watched Tek play with Patches. He knew he didn't fully deserve it, but he enjoyed it all the same. "I remember when that girl was nothing but a ball of wrecked, jittery nerves," he said. "Here it is, a year later, it's like she's a whole new person. She's even brave enough to make fun of Raven."

"Yeah," Juice said. He noticed the tic of Raven's brow, and added, "Uh, braver than me. I'm still terrified of Raven. And awed. Terrified and awed. And have I mentioned how good she looks? It's like a glow, really."

"Smooth," Raven grunted, and chomped a celery stick. Crunching, she told them, "Don't get used to the 'glow.' Demon pregnancies are notoriously short. The whole thing should take three, maybe four months."

"You sure started showing quick enough," Cyborg said, earning him Raven's contemptuous look. "Uh, not to worry, though. We'll be ready for anything. I'm already programming Sarah with the latest in childcare protocols."

Raven's dirty look darkened. "There is no way I'm ever letting your bimbo computer babysit the kid."

"That's okay. I'm sure Gar and Ry would be happy to babysit Raven Junior," he retorted with a smirk.

Her look soured. "It'd be safer if we just put it in a box and leave it in the corner."

She trailed off to a chorus of laughter around her and a sheepish look from Beast Boy. Amidst the chatter, Cyborg's arm blinked and beeped. He tapped its panel and said, "Cyborg. Go."

Bushido spoke through Cyborg's arm. His voice cut somberly through the noise of the room. "_Victor, your presence is required in Ops. Please bring Tek with you._"

Curiosity smothered the teens' mirth. Cyborg found his arm at the center of attention. Tek had stopped across the room, and lifted Patches off her shoulders to frown quizzically at Bushido's request.

Hoping to preserve the party, Cyborg lifted his arm beneath his chin, and murmured, "What's going on? Is there a problem?"

"_Yes. You have a long-distance call._"

He frowned. "Long-distance?"

"_Very long._"

* * *

"You wanna run that by me one more time?" Cyborg said. His throat clenched, making his words terse and sharp to match his glare.

He, Tek, and Bushido stood in Ops around the main console, watching the immense holo-screen projected over their heads. The face of John Stewart filled the screen, watching back with luminous green eyes. His expression mirrored Cyborg's as he said, "_We need to take Tek into custody immediately. It's vital to your security, our security, and the general safety of your city that she come with us._"

The weighty ultimatum sank into Ops. Cyborg blinked twice and shook his head, still not convinced that his hearing wasn't malfunctioning. "Okay. I've heard it twice now. What I'm not hearing is 'why.' If this is how you recruit new members…"

He glanced to Tek. She stared up at the light screen in a daze, her mouth hanging open. Her hands grasped the back of the console's chair, knuckles whitened and trembling with tension.

"_This isn't about recruitment. We have more than enough teenagers,_" John told him. "_We have reason to believe that she represents a real risk. We need to ensure that she doesn't—_"

"'She's' right here," Tek said suddenly. She tried to sound testy, but her voice quavered. "Why don't you tell 'her' why you think she's so dangerous?"

John's lips puckered with annoyance. "_Sorry,"_ he said curtly. "_Are you familiar with The Brain?_"

Cyborg bristled, folding his arms. "Are we paying for this call?" he pointedly asked Bushido, pumping his words with a lethal dose of sarcasm. To John, he snapped, "You didn't call us for an anatomy lesson, did you?"

Bristling back, John snapped, "_'The Brain' is the back-alley name for a brilliant crackpot-for-hire. No one knows what he looks like or where to find him, but he has a reputation for mercenary science and technology work. And we've recently uncovered evidence that he was designing a cape-killing weapon of unimaginable potential._"

"Maybe somebody should check the cages at Acme Labs," Cyborg snarked.

John's eyebrows mashed down until his glare became glowing slits. "_Put the pieces together, kid. This 'Brain' guy has done work for people like Intergang, the Rogues, maybe even Luthor. All of his clients have a vested interest in taking out people in our line of work. The Brain could make a cool fortune selling a weapon that can recognize, evaluate, and eliminate any hero in the world._"

"Okay," Tek drawled. "Brain equals bad. But what makes you think I can help you find him or this weapon of his?"

The screen filled with John's skepticism. He looked directly at her, and said, "_Kid, who am I?_"

She didn't even pause for breath. "John Stewart, Sergeant, retired, US Marine Corps, current Green Lantern assigned to Sector Two-Eight-One-Four." She patted her chest, looking abashed. "Sorry. It's, uh, like a hiccup."

"_Right. So why do I get the feeling that you would 'hiccup' if I asked you about anyone else in the League?_" John said.

The realization slapped Tek a second later. Her jaw dropped as she exclaimed, "Wait a minute. You think… You think I'm the… That I…"

Cyborg stepped in front of her, half-shielding her from John's glare. "You can't be serious. That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. You can't seriously think that Tek is some kind of living seek-and-destroy hero bomb."

John nodded. "_That's exactly what we suspect. We've uncovered evidence that suggests—_"

"Go to hell," Cyborg barked. He slid in front of Tek, blocking her from the screen. "You call us up out of the blue to tell us that you need to just up and take Tek because you think she's some kind of threat to you, and you expect us to swallow that sight unseen? Go tell your techs to up the oxygen count in your space gazebo, 'cause you—"

"_Memory loss. Blackouts. Personality shifts,_" John rattled sharply, cutting off Cyborg. "_Does any of this sound familiar? They're all signs of a sleeper agent._" His face softened slightly as he said, "_We're not accusing anyone of being a criminal here. But the pieces fit too well to ignore this. We need to be sure._"

Cyborg felt a hand against his back. He stepped aside, and then reached out to catch Tek as she stumbled forward. Numb with shock, Tek collapsed against his arm, knocking her chin hard against his metal plating. Her mouth drifted through her thoughts, finding only pieces with which to make words. "I don't… What? That…"

"_Tell me anything about yourself, kid,_" John said in a tone that approached sympathy. "_Anything at all from before you woke up with that suit. Your family? Where you lived? Do you even know your name?_"

"…Tek," she whispered. Despair spilled from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. "My name is Tek."

John's mouth pressed into a line. "_Look, we're not talking about prison. You'll come up to the Watchtower for a few days. We'll run some tests to figure out what's going on. Worst case scenario, we find a way to deactivate your suit so you aren't a threat to yourself anymore._"

"I don't believe Tek is the one issuing threats right now," Bushido said. He had been silent since answering John's call, and his voice hardly broke a whisper. But his implication rang louder than Cyborg's bluster or Tek's babble.

The scowl returned to John's face. "_This isn't a threat. Or a debate. Or a game. This is what has to happen._"

Cyborg thrust a finger at the hologram. "Listen, you son of a—"

"What…" Tek's meandering voice stumbled ahead of Cyborg's. She hung over his arm, and muttered toward the light-screen, "What would I have to do?"

John relaxed his scowl. "_Pack a light bag. Just some clothes and whatever else you'll need for a few days. Then head up to your roof and give us a call. We can teleport you using your communicator signal to triangulate—_"

"No!" Cyborg snapped. Grasping Tek tightly, he said, "You aren't scrambling her atoms just so you can pull her apart in your lab. If you want her so bad, you can send down one of your spaceships so she can ride up like a regular person."

A tug of war raged between John's and Cyborg's glares, with Tek trapped between. Finally, John relented. "_Fine. You can expect a League craft at your facility in about twenty minutes. I'll be coming personally to make sure everything goes smoothly and that everyone's treated fairly. Watchtower, out._"

The screen dissolved into fading pixels that snowed upon the three Titans. Then they vanished as Cyborg's fist caved in the projector table. Sparks spat from the projector's bent base as he pulled his hand out of its innards. "Damn it," he swore softly. "Tek, we need to…Tek?"

He glanced back at the retching noise behind him. Tek was bent over the back of the console chair, emptying her stomach onto its seat. Bushido stood behind her with his hand at her back while she shuddered herself empty.

A whimper pulled Cyborg away from the gut-wrenching sight. He looked to the wings of Ops' balcony, and saw the entirety of the baby shower watching him in worried silence. Patches, the whimperer he'd heard, cringed and hid behind Queenie's leg. The rest of them stood with expressions that ranged between worry and disgust.

Starfire approached from the other wing, brushing the hair out of her puzzled scowl. "What is the problem? I heard shouting."

"I don't know," Raven said across Ops. She leveled a pointed look at Cyborg. "We got worried and decided to check it out. I think we walked in somewhere around 'This isn't a debate.' Who wants to fill in the rest?"

"I'm a weapon," Tek murmured, wiping her mouth. She leaned over the chair, shuddering, her legs bowed out. If not for Bushido's support, she would have collapsed. "I'm a …"

Cyborg grasped her arm, helping her stand. "You're not a weapon," he snapped. "This is pure bullshit! He can't think we'll just jump when he tells us to, or swallow that load of—"

"Whoa, whoa…" Beast Boy walked forward, stopping Cyborg's tirade with upturned hands. "Let's back the crazy train up a few cars and let the rest of us on. Tek's a what? A weapon?"

Cyborg took a deep breath, cooling the fire in his stomach. In five snappish sentences, he summed up the ridiculous story John Stewart had given them. Cyborg's retelling was laden with editorializing, and made liberal use of the word "ass." By the time he was done, the rest of his friends had adopted his scowl as their own.

"This is pure bullshit!" Beast Boy exclaimed. "The Fancy-Pants League thinks they can just tell us what to do because they're older and have a cooler base? Bullshit! I say we wait for whoever they're sending, and we show 'em just what happens when you mess with the Teen Titans!" He threw practice jabs through the air, his tongue poking between his fangs.

"I'm sure Green Lantern would be happy to entertain your lesson," Bushido said with flat sarcasm.

Beast Boy's fist and face fell. "Green Who-tern? Well…then we should send a very strongly-worded letter. Written with letters. On letterhead!" he declared.

"Or, if we're interested in doing the smart thing…" said Raven. "We need answers, not pointless contrariness. We need to know more about what we're dealing with."

"We know what we're dealing with," Beast Boy retorted. "The League is giving us the runaround, and they want us to ship Tek off to their floating space tube."

Raven rolled her eyes. "More about 'Tek,' Garfield. We need to know what, if anything, of what the League suspects is true. If she is what they say she is…"

Beast Boy rounded on her with a shocked expression. "If she is…? What is the matter with you? Tek's our friend! Could you once, maybe, for two seconds, pretend like you have a heart?"

"Blind optimism isn't going to solve this situation," Raven told him hotly.

"Neither is being a bitch—"

"ENOUGH!" Starfire shook the balcony with her shout. She stomped through their startled stares and stood next to Tek. "We do not need to know anything. We will protect our friend, regardless of who or how many they send."

Hands on hips, Beast Boy sneered, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you actually caring about us again? It's kinda hard to tell after the last month of you brooding so hard that you don't even show up to a party for your best friend that's right next-freaking-door to your own room!"

Raven eyed him incredulously. "You're not seriously sticking up for me after calling me a bitch, are you?"

"You were being a bitch! That doesn't mean—"

"Everyone, shut up, shut up. **Shut**. **Up**," Cyborg boomed. He waited for their voices to quell and their glares to cool. Then he rested his hand on Tek's trembling shoulder. His eyes descended to hers, staring, mismatched, through the terror and confusion swimming in her face. "Tek, you need to weigh in right now. No sarcasm. No selflessness. Just tell me what you want to do. These guys, they might have some answers you've been looking for. I ain't gonna like, I don't like it. But if you want to go, then okay. But if you don't want to go…"

Tek reached up and grasped Cyborg's hand. Tears rolled down her quivering cheeks as she stared through Cyborg. Just minutes ago, she had been laughing and smiling like a normal girl. Now she looked lost in every conceivable sense of the word. But in a small, shaky voice, she whispered, "Please don't make me go."

Cyborg straightened at once. His hand stayed with Tek's, squeezing it for assurance. "Okay. Raven's right: we need to know more about what's going on, but I'm not gonna swallow any more League bull until I look into it myself. Starfire's right: we stand by our own, no matter what. Beast Boy…is right in spirit, even though he's pretty much just spouting verbal diarrhea right now."

"Yeah! What?" Beast Boy exclaimed.

"And Bushido is right for keeping his mouth shut and not making things worse."

"Thank you," Bushido said with a nod.

"Shut up. All right," Cyborg said, and ran a hand across his scalp with a bitter breath. "Tek stays with us. Which is going to get harder in about seventeen minutes. I seriously doubt our security will keep out a determined Justice League for much longer after that."

Starfire's eyes glimmered beneath knit brows. "So we fight," she said.

"Or, a not-crazy plan: we run," Beast Boy said.

"We run" Cyborg echoed. "We need to get out of here yesterday, and find some answers of our own. Sarah: prep the Icarus for launch, full fuel and supplies. It might be a long trip."

"_Acknowledged. The Icarus will be fueled and prepped for launch in T-minus twenty minutes,_" Sarah's disembodied voice reported.

Cyborg cringed. He might be able to cut down on the prep time for flight, but not enough to beat the League's arrival. The Icarus was no slouch in speed and firepower, but that assumed it had a chance to make it out of the Bay. Were their positions reversed, Cyborg would keep his Javelin covering the surly teenagers' door in case they made a break for it.

But there was little else he could do. Keeping his hand in Tek's, he steered the Titans out of Ops. "Let's go. If we hurry—"

"Hey!" Jason shouted. He and the other Streetbeat had stood quietly at Ops' edge, watching the disaster unfold. Now he stepped forward, and snapped, "You heard your computer. Green Lantern is gonna smack your super-jet out of the air with a big green hand before you even put your tray tables up."

"Not a lot of choice," Cyborg said. "You guys should clear out. Sorry, but if this goes down bad—"

"—y'all are gonna need help," Queenie finished for him, folding her arms.

The rest of the Titans stopped, caught in the determination that their Streetbeat friends shared. One by one, the Streetbeat stepped in line with Queenie to offer a nod. Even Patches followed, though he hid amongst the others' legs.

Cyborg sighed impatiently. "That's really cool, guys, but I'm not looking to start a fight."

"You've already got a fight," Juice said with a scoff. "It's the best kind of fight, too, because the other guy doesn't know it's a fight yet."

"Yeah. The other guy. **Green Lantern**," Beast Boy enunciated loudly. "How do you win a fight when the other guy founded the Justice League?"

"Same way you beat any other big guy," Magnum said, and smirked. "You feint. Then you punch through him and run like hell."

* * *

Third Street rumbled with the approach of a fleet, compact, rotund stellar vehicle shaped like a bug. Carbon scoring mottled the ship's sapphire paint along its sides and across its long antennae sensors. Its wheeled legs reached for the street, touching down lightly to lower the ship to the pavement.

The block stood empty, cordoned from traffic by a pair of police squad cars at either end. The black-and-whites' lights flashed as their officers rerouted traffic around Titans Compound, just as the Justice League had requested.

The bug ship's belly split open, lowering a ramp that banged against the pavement. John Stewart strode out of the craft, followed closely by Shayara, whose wings folded to fit through the narrow hatch.

Clad in colors like his ship, their pilot descended after them, taking in the street with a goggled gaze. "It looks clear enough," Blue Beetle decided, and scratched the top of his cowl. "What's got you so edgy?"

"Just keep your eyes open," John told him. He caught sight of an older man striding toward them from the parked police cruisers, and moved to intercept him. "Somehow I doubt these kids are going to start acting rational about this all of a sudden. Keep your Bug running."

The old man reached them, bearing a lined countenance without reaction to the heroic trio or their spaceship. He offered his hand, and said, "Lieutenant Smith, Jump City SCU."

"John Stewart," John said, and took his hand.

"I know. I read," Smith said. He held the handshake a second too long to be friendly. His smile was hard, chiseled out of years' worth of unpleasantness, not all of it his own.

Shayara glanced at the police at either end of the block. "I'm surprised the city called you in. We just needed the street cleared for landing. There shouldn't be any need for your unit here."

"Yeah, well, 'shouldn't' is a word that comes up an awful lot when capes are involved," Smith said. "No offense meant, but I get a new ulcer whenever I see somebody flying a spaceship over my city. So, are these kids in some kind of trouble?"

"There's no trouble," John told him, his tone growing curt with the old man's vinegar. "Just some League business that's spilled over into your turf, is all. Nothing we can't handle."

Smith's entire face puckered. He fell into step beside John, his canvas trench coat fluttering behind him. "Handle? I don't like that word, Mister. 'Handle' implies trouble, which is something I don't need by the bucketful. These are basically some good kids, and if they're in trouble, or starting trouble, I'd like to know it."

"It's nothing like that, Lieutenant," Shayara insisted. With a sharp look at the back of John's head, she said, "He phrased it poorly. We're just here to pick up one of the children for a visit to the Watchtower, that's all. She was nervous about using the teleporter."

A high-pitched whine cut the air, tensing every muscle in John's body. He followed the sound to the roof of the Compound, where the sound of ratcheting metal joined the whine.

Green power enveloped John to lift him into the air. He soared over the street to confront the sound. Fluttering wings followed behind him, carrying Shayara in his wake. As he crested over the Compound, he saw an enormous set of double-doors opening in its roof. A silvery jet waited underneath, its running lights already flashing, its aft end alight with thruster backwash.

He thrust his ring at the doors and willed a screen of energy to leap from his fist. The green screen enveloped the opening bay, trapping the jet underneath. With nowhere to go, the jet's engines powered down in defeat.

John kept his screen in place. His ring scanned the jet's fuselage and found no life signs inside it. "It's empty," he told Shayara.

She floated above him, examining the jet through John's screen. Something about it struck her as familiar, but she couldn't place exactly what. "What are they trying, sending an empty jet up?" she mused.

Metal crashed and thumped down below on the street. Releasing the power screen, John led Shayara in a dive over the side of the Compound. He saw Blue Beetle and the Lieutenant jumping back from a ramp that had swung down to the street from the building's side. Pushing himself down with his ring, John caught a glimpse of a short, winding tunnel inside the ramp hatch.

Headlights dazzled him from inside the hatch. He and Shayara shot upward to avoid the explosive emergence of a strange, enormous tank. Roaring atop tires and treads, the Titans' CUTTER raced over the hatch ramp. It gripped the road, screeching in a ninety-degree turn that nearly swallowed Smith and Beetle. Both men could have reached out and touched the side of the tank before its treads spun, shooting the tank forward.

Canisters rained from the underside of the tank as John lifted his ring. He constructed a lance in his mind, and was halfway to pushing it through his ring, when the bouncing canisters erupted. Light and sound consumed the street in one disorienting blast.

By the time the thunderous flash faded, the CUTTER had rounded the corner, out of sight. The police blockade at the end of the street had become two half-crushed cars that had been knocked aside. Their officers picked themselves off the sidewalk, shaking at the near miss.

Spots danced in John's eyes and bells sang in his ears. He shook both clear as he landed hard next to Smith and Beetle. Shayara stumbled to ground next to him, looking the way he felt. "Flash-bangs," he snarled, waving at the spots in his eyes.

Beetle shouted over the noise in his head. "I can maybe catch them in the Bug, but—"

"Stay here," John snapped, and donned his ring's containment field. "They might try to double back on us. Shayara, with me."

They soared over the top of the Compound, chasing the growl of an engine that dwindled into the distance. Traffic had skidded and skewed in the CUTTER's wake, leaving a trail of cars swerved onto the sidewalk or on the wrong side of the road for the two Leaguers to follow.

"You know, if you had been a little more diplomatic, they might have cooperated," Shayara said. She pulled her mace from her belt, looping her wrist through its strap.

John watched the road for bystanders in need of help. The Titans' reckless escape had left scores of citizens rattled, but seemingly unharmed. People pointed and shouted at him and Shayara as they passed overhead. "How was I not diplomatic? I told them what we needed from them. This is a clear case of teenage rebellion."

Shayara spared him a smug look. "You were abrasive. You can be sometimes, you know."

"Look who's talking," John retorted.

The back of the CUTTER came into sight. The tank twisted sharply around corners, trading speed for a chance to lose the Leaguers. When its green and winged pursuers rounded the corner after it, the CUTTER ran full-out, blaring its horn at the traffic in its way. Its plasma-driven engine howled, feeding speed directly into its treads.

Twin turrets, fore and aft, lifted from the roof of the CUTTER, brandishing double-cannons up at its pursuers. White-hot prelude glowed in its barrels, turning John's annoyance into ashen surprise. "They wouldn't…" he said.

Glimmering bolts leapt out of the cannons. The white fire bracketed John and Shayara, forcing them to separate or be vaporized. One shot sizzled at the edge of John's containment field before careening into the sky.

"So how should I handle this one? Ask nicely?" John called mockingly over the sizzle of the bolts.

Shayara's face became a hard expanse of teeth and mettle. "Be diplomatic," she called back.

Her wings folded back as she dove at the tank. Its aft cannons tracked after her flight, spraying wild fire behind her. She bellowed a war cry and swung her mace through the turret, turning it into a twisted mess with one blow. Another swing bisected the fore turret with a shower of sparks. Shayara landed atop the crippled tank and grasped the edge of the ruined turret to steady herself. Her mace pounded its way through the roof, fueled by her shouts.

John willed his ring's power into simplistic pincers. The green tines stretched at the swerving CUTTER and grasped its left tread. Metal and rubber shrieked as the pincers stopped the treads in their tracks, tearing apart the gears that drove them. The CUTTER spun into a skid, its right treads locking in sympathy for the left. In a cloud of burnt rubber, the CUTTER drifted to a halt, smoldering and immobile.

Shayara hopped down as John landed next to the tank's side hatch. As he pounded his fist on the armor, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of admiration for the Titans. Their escape had been rash and sloppy, but had taken a mountain of bravado to attempt under his nose. But bravado wouldn't change what he had to do. "Open up, kids. I think you've caused enough trouble for one day."

The hatch hissed open. John and Shayara stepped back to allow it room to lower to the ground. When it did, it revealed a dirty blond in a denim jacket, who smiled at their astonishment. "Man," Jason said, "Am I glad you pulled us over. I am so lost right now."

"Hurry up!" Magnum shouted from the interior of the CUTTER. "I want some damn pancakes!"

"Shut the hell up, and I'll ask!" Jason snarled back into the tank. Offering John and Shayara a smile, he said, "Sorry. Do you know where I can find a Denny's, or an IHOP? I've got a carful of hungry kids…"

"Who are you?" John demanded. "Where are the Titans?"

That familiar whine returned, this time muffled by their distance from the Compound. John turned from the smug stranger in the tank and looked back the way they had flown. Over the rows of buildings, he saw the silvery shape of a strange jet rise, riding VTOL thrusters.

He was in the air in an instant, flying with Shayara on his heels. Touching his ear, he commed, "Beetle, what the hell is going on? That jet was empty!"

"_It just started up!_" Beetle shouted over the link. "_I scanned their base, and that looked empty too. I thought they had left another way, but their jet just took off. I'm heading back to…oh, no!_"

John didn't need to ask. He saw a small protrusion beneath the jet spit green fire down behind the row of buildings blocking his view. Something under the jet plumed with smoke and conflagration. He had to assume that was Beetle's Bug being eliminated. He willed himself to go faster.

Shayara stared intently at the jet's outline. As its aft end swung around, flashing them with its thruster assembly, her memory clicked into place. "John! That's a Gordanian scout ship!" she exclaimed.

"I still can't read any life signs in it," he shouted back. He readied a shot that would hopefully force them to land. If he did too much damage, he might hurt the kids inside, and worse, anyone underneath them.

"It's equipped with sensor baffles," Shayara told him, "And a cl—"

The silvery ship shimmered as if caught in an intense heat wave. Its wobbling outline faded. Its engine backwash grew dim as it climbed into the sky. Even the roar of its engines quieted, leaving only the whistle of the wind to taunt John.

He slowed to a stop, searching the featureless sky for some sign of the jet. His ring lowered in defeat. Hovering behind him, Shayara sighed, and said, "—cloaking device."

His eyes and ring found nothing but empty air. "Damn it," he deadpanned, and reached for his ear. "I am never gonna hear the end of this one."

* * *

Cold Atlantic waves pounded the rocky cliff face. The surf sprayed over the stone, inexorably smoothing its way inland, as it always had and always would. A carpet of gray storm clouds hung over the clash of stone and surf, drizzling into the struggle.

One lone figure sat on an outcropping of the cliff face, caught halfway between the land and the sea. He watched the sea grow angrier, its wave encroaching up the cliff beneath his dangling legs. The largest waves pelted his bare feet with brine. The rest of him soaked slowly in the light rain. His stained work overalls grew heavy and cold in the chill of the air, which turned his breath to steam. His dark hair sopped onto his forehead.

He was no stranger to East Coast weather. Steel City boasted a climate all too similar to that in Gotham, if perhaps a little cooler. The industrial metropolis waited several miles to the north, well away from the cliffs or the open mouth of the cave behind his outcropping.

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine Steel City caught in the rain. He had spent days memorizing everything about the city: its streets, its utility layouts, its patterns and movements, its rising rate of unusual crime. But with all the facts of the city at his disposal, he could not visualize what it looked like. He didn't know which of its roofs offered the most exciting swing-down. He didn't even know where to find the best pizza, or the most passable Chinese food.

A sigh puffed from his wet lips. He would learn, eventually. Incidentally. None of the city's flavors would prove crucial in saving it. He needed to remember patience, and more importantly, focus. Those were the virtues he preached to the others. In time, Steel City would feel enough like home that it wouldn't matter anymore.

Footsteps scraped the stone behind him. He opened his eyes and twisted, looking back. Superboy jogged out of the shadows of the cave, wearing a sense of urgency around his half-hearted uniform of jeans and a shield-branded T-shirt. "Tim! Tim! I've been looking everywhere! You've gotta check this out!" he exclaimed.

"I was just taking a break, Conner," Tim said, and rose to his feet. "What's the problem?"

Superboy shoved his hand between them, revealing a round, silver device clutched in his palm. He thumbed its side, calling a two-dimensional hologram from its face. A studio news broadcast hovered in the air, and a familiar news anchor spoke in crisp tones.

"_Alarm gripped the city today,_" Hank McCoy announced to the two teens. "_An altercation between the Teen Titans and the Justice League spilled out onto the streets, disrupting traffic for eight blocks and causing several thousand dollars in general damages._"

"Dude!" Superboy exclaimed, jostling the communicator and its projection. "The League dropped the hammer on the Titans. Your buds are totally on the run!"

Tim scowled, trying to listen through Superboy's interjection. "I would have heard that from the report if you would be quiet. What else did I miss?"

"Amp down, Grouch Wonder. It's a recording." Superboy toggled the side of his communicator. The holographic news report rewound with a squeal, and then continued as normal.

"—_damages. League representatives are calling the altercation a 'training drill' that got out of hand, and have offered reparations for the damages as an act of contrition. The Titans have not issued any statement confirming this yet, and are currently unavailable or unable to comment on the disruption to the city's—_"

Superboy clicked off the report. "It just yammers on from there. But come on," he said, "you know the League wouldn't just drop on the Titans to run drills. Up 'til now, they never even cared about the Titans."

Hesitation flooded Tim's first reaction. He wanted to wave off the report, to pretend like it didn't matter to him. He had a million good excuses ready for not getting involved. Their operation was still new. They hadn't even finished setting up their headquarters. But none of his excuses would convince Superboy. He could see that in the clone's determined enthusiasm.

"You really want to get in the middle of this?" Tim asked, already knowing the answer.

"Hell yeah, I do," Superboy said. "And you can bet everyone else will, too. This is exactly why we signed up."

Tim marched into the cave, leaving behind the clash of surf and stone for his own eternal conflict. He reached into the pocket of his work overalls, and said, "If we're going to do this, let's do it right. Inform the others, and then prep the jet. I have a call to make. We need to know more about the situation before we start busting heads."

Excitement stole the weight out of Superboy's sneakers. He floated ahead of Tim to the back wall of the cave. Seizing a nearby stalagmite, he bent it back on a hidden hinge, revealing a secreted control panel. He pressed a code into its keypad, and said, "You do the brain work, and I'll do the braining. Teamwork at its finest, Tim."

The rear of the cave split open. Behind the faux stone doors appeared a metal lift with retracting safety rails. As the two teens boarded the lift, Tim fished from his pocket a thin strip of black fabric. He pressed it to his face.

"Watch the names, Superboy," he said in a practiced growl. "We're on the clock now. Let's get to work."

**To Be Continued**


	29. Lost Little Girl: Outside the Law

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

**

* * *

**

**Lost Little Girl:** _Outside the Law_

"You sent John?" Superman exclaimed.

The Man of Steel followed Batman through the corridors of the Watchtower, heedless of the chill emanating from the caped shoulder he followed. Purple-suited technicians hugged the wall to avoid both heroes storming through the tight station interior. Unfazed by the booming voice behind him, Batman continued his brisk march.

Superman clutched his scowl, trying to make sense of Batman's logic. "John was a marine. He doesn't have the best track record with telling teenagers what to do," he said.

"I'm aware of who John is," Batman said without turning back.

"We could have sent someone down just to talk to them. Diana or J'onn could have explained the situation. I would have gone myself if I had known—"

"Is there a point to this?" Batman clipped.

Superman's jaw tightened, grinding his teeth together. "You were the one that brought this case to us. You're the one who pointed out that a potential hero-killing weapon is running around with a bunch of kids. Now they're running from us in a jet we can't track, and even if we do find them, they won't listen to us after that mess in Jump City. Batman!"

Superman reached forward, forcing Batman to stop and turn around with a hand to the Dark Knight's shoulder. Batman stiffened at the contact, rounding back with a glare visible even through his heavy cowl. The corridor around them quickly emptied of unlucky passersby, leaving their confrontation a private one.

Gotham glares and growls did little to Superman. He knew the man behind the mask, and was more concerned for his seeming lapses in judgment than for his persona's bluster. "Bruce, what's going on here? You're acting like none of this matters. You had to know that the Titans might have responded better to diplomacy than orders."

Batman waited until Superman's hand slipped from his shoulder. "They've lived with the weapon for over a year. There was going to be resistance one way or another. The bottom line is, we need her up here," he told Superman.

"And in the meantime, she's loose down there. That doesn't concern you?" Superman insisted.

"It's being taken care of," Batman told him. He resumed his path down the corridor, his cape sweeping behind him. "I left instructions with J'onn. He can expect a call when the acquisition is done."

Superman refused to chase after him again. "A call? From who?"

"Outside help," Batman said, his gaze and gait ardently forward.

"And where will you be?" Superman asked. The demand drained out of his voice in bitter defeat, making him sound tired.

As Batman rounded the corner, he cast a sidelong glance at Superman. Something lurked behind the Dark Knight's empty eyes, a canniness normally reserved for his enemies. Blessed with incomparable vision, even Superman could not see what Batman held back behind his glare.

Disappearing from view, Batman said, "I'll be attacking the problem from the other end."

* * *

Tek stared at the horizon, unsure of what she was looking for in the space between the sky and the sea. Warm waves rolled up the beach, climbing toward the tips of her skin-suited soles. White sand clung to the underside of her legs, and stuck in her hair where she had laid her head. Overhead, the sun smiled on another perfect day. But try though it might, it couldn't smile on Tek, who wrapped herself in a cloak of misery too dark for sunshine to pierce.

She hugged her knees and shivered. Even three days on the deserted island hadn't warmed the chill in the pit of her stomach. Three days hadn't dried the tears in her eyes, or eased questions pounding her mind like sleet. Three days in paradise had only left her exhausted, dehydrated, wracked, and slightly sunburned.

And disconcerted. Tek looked around the empty island, which was little more than a glorified sandbar in the Pacific. She remembered the last time the Titans had come here on a beach getaway, and how amazed and scared she had felt by the sheer openness around her. Her entire life had been spent in the city. Seeing from horizon to horizon made her feel exposed, as though she teetered on the tip of the world, ready to fall off with just a push. She felt better in the city, surrounded by cars, and clutter, and buildings, and friends.

_But I don't really feel that way_, she thought. _That's just how someone else wanted me to feel._ The thought had rebounded in her head in one form or another since leaving the Compound. Were her thoughts and feelings really her own, or someone else's design? She couldn't trust her gap-riddled memory. Could she even trust herself?

She knew everything about every hero she could think of: names, powers, weaknesses, locations, bases, talents… It had led her into the arms of the Titans. It had proven invaluable in recruiting auxiliary Titans. Was that, too, someone else's design? Gathering lambs for the slaughter? And when that slaughter came, would she be the knife?

_That's why the Titans accepted you. To watch you. To protect themselves._ The old adage of close friends and closer enemies poisoned her thoughts. Robin hadn't trusted her, and so had recruited her. Was that so different from what the Justice League wanted?

Passing thought of the Teen Wonder made Tek look out to the small sandbar a hundred yards off the edge of the beach. A dot of gold and red sat still on the waves, staring out at the ocean as Tek did. Tek felt a pang as she watched the dot.

Starfire had hardly moved since their landing. Their entire flight, Starfire had sat in the cockpit, her eyes piercing the forward viewport with terrible, glowing fury. Her hands had left deep divots in the bottom of her metal seat. She refused to see or speak with anyone. Tek couldn't remember seeing Starfire eat or sleep since their landing.

A gurgling beneath the blue swath of Tek's skin suit accused her of the same.

"Good morning." Bushido's cheery voice turned her head. He stood behind her, barefoot, his keikogi rustling in a warm breeze. The smile on his face outshone the sun. Two MREs sat balanced on his palms, which he swept down toward her with a flourish. "Your breakfast choices today are the cheese omelet or the french toast. Be warned: I've seen both, and I cannot tell the difference once they are out of their packaging."

Tek stared at the MREs. She knew she needed to eat, but she couldn't muster even a fraction of her appetite. "I'm not hungry."

He sat next to her, folding his legs beneath him. "Nor am I after days of Victor's off-brand discount rations. How a man with a supersonic jet can be so stingy is beyond me. Nevertheless, you will eat." He opened a package and placed it in her hands, wrapping her fingers around the container with gentle firmness.

Sighing, she opened her meal with her teeth while he did the same. Preservatives and nutrients in the shape of food stared back at her from the package. She lost the staring contest with her breakfast, and set it aside.

Leaning over, she felt a small bottle rattling in her belt. She drew the bottle and consumed two of its pills. Bushido's eyebrow arched at her grimace. "Maybe I don't need to eat," she muttered, letting the pills' bitterness into her voice. "Weapons need ammo, not french toast."

His eyebrow settled over a stern look. "I can count your ribs from ten paces. You need to eat," Bushido said around a mouthful of faux egg. "Moping requires calories."

She goggled his cheeky expression. "Moping? Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Yes. And quite well, too. Though you were much better at it yesterday," Bushido said. He nodded to a spot down the beach. "When the sunset hit you just so, you were quite the tragic figure. The use of warm colors—"

Wrapped french toast struck him squarely in the face, blinding him a moment to the apoplectic rage flooding Tek's face. "I'm trying to figure out who I am, you insensitive prick! You think this is a joke?"

Bushido calmly retrieved her breakfast and opened it. Tearing one slice in half, he chewed thoughtfully on the toast, examining her as she huffed. "I think it is unnecessary. You already know who you are."

Tek's fury dulled into disgust. She drew her knees to her chin, unwilling to even look at Bushido a second longer. "Fine. Whatever, Mister Enlightened. I guess it doesn't matter who I was, either, huh?" she snapped snidely.

"Completely immaterial," he agreed, chewing through her sarcasm with cheer.

Her eyes crinkled around a fresh welling of tears. The panoramic blue of the ocean and sky blurred together hotly. "Why didn't anyone come looking for me? Why did my family let someone do this to me?" she said, and choked. "Did…didn't they love me? Is that why nobody looked? Or…or did I hurt them?"

Bushido shook his head. "You did not," he told her.

She didn't listen, or didn't hear him. "What if they were trying to neutralize me, like the Justice League wants to do? Like, they knew how dangerous I was. But I wouldn't let them. Like, I went berserk, and tore them all apart. A-A-And those suit guys who showed up were actually the good guys trying to make sure I didn't kill anyone else!"

"That is—"

"What if I'm not even a person?" Tek cried into her knees, her eyes and voice made thick by the chilling thought. "What if this skinny little body is just a disguise for that big ugly robot thing that comes out of me? And, like, I just think I'm a person. Only I'm a bio-borg, or a replicant, or some other kind of screwed-up bullshit that—"

Two fingers jabbed her ribs. Tek squirmed, and cried out, her chin launching from her knees with a start. Bushido pulled his fingers from her chest and picked up the last of the toast. "Finished? Excellent," he said, and popped the remainder of the toast into his mouth. Spraying crumbs, he said, "Dwelling on the past is useless enough. But dwelling on a past you do not know? Sheer lunacy."

Tek rubbed the pained stain on her skin suit. "You would say that," she groused, and wiped her eyes.

"The past matters," he insisted. "But it is merely part of what shapes our future. If we spend our present dwelling on our past, it becomes our future, and nothing changes. Learn from the past to inform your present, not dictate it." As he swallowed, he offered her the condensed bar of hash browns from her meal.

She took the bar, forcing a weak smile through her misery for his benefit. "Where do you come up with this stuff?" she asked.

"Fortune cookies, mostly," he said with a straight face. "Chinese food tastes substantially better in America than it does in China."

Unwrapping the bar, she nudged his shoulder with hers. Her smile grew a little less forced. "And where did you learn to be such an obnoxious friend?"

His straight face broke. "From you." Bushido stood, gathering the loose packaging into his empty breakfast box. "Sit here. Count the waves. Convince Starfire to come back to shore. Do anything except worry, Tek, because it will do you no good."

The hash browns vanished from her hand faster than Tek could taste it. She felt the last of the food slither down her throat, easing the churn of her innards. "You really aren't worried? You don't think I should have gone with Green Lantern?"

He shook his head. "No, and no. We will solve this triviality on our own, without the brutish and clumsy intervention of so-called heroes. You'll see. This will be cleared up in a matter of days, and then we can all go home."

Her smile lost all traces of falsehood. "Thanks, Ry," she said.

"Not at all," he said with a deep nod. "In fact, I think I shall go see how Victor is doing. If you'll excuse me?"

Bushido left her in the sand, fully aware that her worry would consume her smile just moments after he left. He walked further inland to the center of the tiny island, where three deep divots pressed into the sand. Drawing his communicator from his teal sash, he thumbed its side, and heard it beep in reply.

The air above him split open, lowering a portion of the crystal blue sky to the sand with the pneumatic whine of servos. A ramp yawned out from nowhere, leading up into the dim interior of the Icarus. Bushido climbed the ramp, thumbing his communicator again halfway up. The ramp lifted back into the broken sky, making it whole again as it swallowed Bushido.

Emergency lights sputtered illumination through the Icarus' narrow main cabin. Nearly every joule of power in the jet went toward maintaining its cloak. Shadows swam over Bushido, painting him and the three other frowns in the cabin in deep furrows.

Bushido nodded to the one frown aimed at him, and asked, "Anything yet?"

Beast Boy shook his head. Behind him, lurking on opposite benches, Cyborg and Raven sat in a strange, close-eyed contest of wills. The latter floated several inches above her bench in cross-legged meditation. The former's fist penetrated a revealed computer terminal with his data jack. Neither had moved in hours.

Sighing, Bushido sat down next to Beast Boy, adjusting his sheath to fit behind the bench. "We cannot remain here much longer. We should consider a new course of action," he said.

"Dude, I'm with you," Beast Boy said. "But it's not like we're bursting with options here. Besides, staying here keeps us safe. We know the area, we're alone, and…"

The shapeshifter clamped his mouth shut, refusing to finish the thought. They all had danced around voicing the same notion from the moment they had taken flight. Unwilling to remain silent any longer, Bushido spoke it for him. "…and it isolates Tek, should the League be correct about her," he said.

Beast Boy folded his arms, scowling inward. "No. It's not true," he said. But he bit his lip, sucking it behind his fangs. "Except…what they said makes some sense…"

Bushido nodded, and leaned back with a sigh. His head thumped the row of lockers mounted above them. "Tek loves us. We are her friends. If she were to attack us, I know it would never be by choice. And it would destroy her to hurt us. I will not let that come to pass."

Beast Boy forced himself to snort. "So, what? You'd ninja-stab her to keep her from hurting us because you know it would hurt her more?" he asked jokingly.

"Yes."

The finality in Bushido's voice killed Beast Boy's smile. "Oh. You, uh…you're a scary friend, Ry-Guy."

A quiver shook Bushido's throat, seeping into his words. His strong voice fell to a paltry whisper as he said, "It is a last resort. Not until I am sure there is no other way." At Beast Boy's continued stare, Bushido shrugged, and added, "I would do the same for any of you."

This time, Beast Boy's smile reached his eyes. He patted Bushido on the shoulder, and said, "That's sweet…in a really, really, _really_ disturbing way. Oh, and please don't."

Raven's eyes opened with a fleeting flash that lit the cabin. She sagged down onto the bench. Only Beast Boy's quick hands kept her upright while she gasped for breath. Sweat swamped her pallid skin, wilting the crisp cloak around her. She gulped great handfuls of air and sank into Beast Boy's arms, staring back at his expectant look with tired twilight.

"Nothing," she rasped. "I've picked it apart. There's no supernatural reason for her amnesia, and no magical trigger or tracking spell that keeps tabs on her. Whatever she is and wherever she's from, it's one hundred percent scientific. How long was I out?"

"Nine hours." Beast Boy dug a bottle of water and a nutrient bar from the storage lockers one-handed. Keeping Raven steady, he handed her the bar, and then popped the water bottle open with his thumb. "So that's good. It means one less thing to worry about, and it narrows the field a little."

Raven glared at him, grateful and annoyed as he raised the bottle to her lips. She softened her throat with water, and said, "Maybe. But I could discover a lot more if I could scan her mind completely. I'm not a terribly gifted telepath, and Tek's mind is not a particularly nice place to be. The further I got into her mind, the harder it got to push deeper. Like wading through a pool of cold peanut butter."

"Then you did find something in her mind?" Bushido asked.

"There's something about her memories," Raven said. She leaned forward, and glowered as Beast Boy's arm stayed fast around her shoulders. "Some of them are painfully ordered, like files. Most of those have to do with us, or other heroes, and basic things like motor control and speech. The rest of her brain is a mess, worse than most people's. It's a wonder she's as stable as she is."

Beast Boy puckered with worry. "You mean she is gonna go bonkers after all?"

"I mean, wait and see what Cyborg learned," Raven said, and sucked the water bottle dry.

As if summoned from cyberspace by her cue, Cyborg leaned forward, opening his eye. His ocular implant lit, burning red as he extracted his data jack from the wall. "Not really worth the wait. Cyborg didn't learn much," he said dejectedly.

"You could hear what we were saying?" Beast Boy said, aghast. "Uh...those robot jokes earlier were made out of love. And your armor makes you look tough, not puffy."

"Skip it. We've got bigger issues," Cyborg told them. He ran a hand across his remaining scalp, and sighed. "Whoever this Brain guy is, nobody can find him. He doesn't leave a trace fresher than six months, either real or electronic. Every lead I could tap from law enforcement databases is a cold one. Even the League computers are dry on intel."

Raven fought the amazement from her voice. "You hacked the League's Tower?"

A shadow of smugness flitted across Cyborg's lips. "Mister Terrific is good, but he can't think like a computer. I would have cracked it sooner, but I've been limiting our satellite access to a few minutes at a time, and bouncing the signal off of every comm. satellite I can find. With it hadn't been such a waste."

Cyborg sagged forward in his seat. His head swam with a violent migraine from a pinched stomach and a pitched battle with the League's firewall. He had been pushing himself since the moment they'd launched and, though his systems were fully charged, his biological parts ached with fatigue.

Green gorilla arms eased him back upright. Once braced, Beast Boy shrank back into his regular shape. "Ry, get him something, will you?"

He's just gotten Cyborg propped when he saw Raven start to tilt again. While Bushido tended to Cyborg, Beast Boy slid under Raven's listing frame, giving her a shoulder to lean on without a choice.

Her eye stung him from beneath stray waves of her hair. "Thanks," she grumped just loud enough for him to hear. "Nice of you to help someone you think is a bitch."

"Heh." Beast Boy squirmed, chagrinned. "You remember that, huh?" he asked, and coughed.

Raven's glare softened as it fell incrementally into her bulbous lap. Her arms wrapped around her stomach. "I guess I don't blame you," she mumbled.

"Hey, c'mon, I don't…I mean, not most of the time," Beast Boy admitted uneasily. Brightening, he added, "And hey, would a bitch spend hours going all hocus-pocus in a friend's brain just to prove she isn't a killing machine? That counts for a lot."

Raven's face crinkled. "That sounded less creepy in your head, didn't it?"

He nodded sheepishly. "It sounded a lot better up there, yeah. Lots of stuff does. But the important thing is that I'm trying." He chuckled for the both of them, lapsing into awkward silence as Raven continued to stare at her belly from her perch on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he laid his hand atop her arm, and said, "I don't really think you're a bitch, you know."

She felt warmth trickle from his touch, soothing some small part of the pit in her stomach. She wasn't sure why. Beast Boy's opinion didn't matter more than anyone else's, she reminded herself. "Don't worry. I call you worse all the time," she told him.

Cyborg crushed the last of a bottle of water down his throat. His body processed it with lightning speed, making him feel better at once. "How is she?" he asked.

"Scared. Solitary. Existential," Bushido said. "She's worried about what will happen to her, and what she might do to us. Valid concerns, both. She's maintained control so far, but…"

Cyborg punched the bench with a growl. "This isn't working. We're not doing enough! We can't just sit around, we need action—"

He jolted from his seat at a muffled scream that pierced the hull. The scream struck any fatigue from him like a shot to the stomach. He rushed to the hatch ahead of the others, dropping its ramp with a slap of the emergency release. The ramp pounded the sand, and then shook with Cyborg's clamoring steps.

Tek floundered in a nightmare of sand. The beach itself surged up, grappling her with thick, gritty tendrils. She screamed, thrashing against the inexorable grasps coiling up her body. Slivers of blue light flashed from beneath the roiling sand, only to vanish when the sand pressed harder into her.

"My suit! It can't…" Tek screamed again as two tendrils took her shoulders, drawing her deeper into the rising sand pile. "Help me!"

Cyborg's arm had mechamorphed into a cannon when green flashes struck the living sand. Dazzled, he squinted through the spots in his eyes toward the source of the flash.

Starfire landed in the shallow tide, crouched from her leap that had carried her from the sandbar. The water boiled beneath her burning hands, which she unleashed upon the living sand with a roar.

The sand around Tek cried out as starbolts burned away large chunks of it. It struggled to maintain its grip on Tek while its mass dwindled into acrid smoke. "Yeow!" the sand yelped. "I could use a hand here!"

Sonic compression burgeoned in Cyborg's grasp, ready to blow the particulate creature away from Tek. As he aimed, he felt a sharp impact on his chest, and looked down. A black, curved, flat bird protruded from his stomach, its wingtip burrowed into his armor. The bird trilled once, and then exploded.

Blue foam burst from the flat bird's sacrifice. The rubbery material crawled over Cyborg, wrapping around his torso. It expanded impossibly fast, swallowing his arms and legs. Cyborg snarled and struggled against the thickening foam, which bent and cushioned his incredible strength into useless gestures. In two seconds, he hung in the center of a misshapen ball of blue foam, with only his head protruding from the top.

Raven summoned a wave of soul-self from her hands on instinct, chanting her retaliation. As the first word left her lips, a boomerang made of ivory metal knocked into the back of her hood, stealing the words from her lips with one sharp crack.

Beast Boy bristled beside her, halfway into the skin of a jungle cat, when a blur of black and gold hammered him from above, driving him explosively down into the beach.

Bushido drew his sword, only to have it meet another blade that hadn't been there a moment ago, wielded by a shapely figure wearing a red and gold sunrise.

As her teammates fell in the space of her snarl, Starfire pounded through the surf, kicking a spray behind her, hurling bolt after bolt into the beach that bound Tek. Her eyes blazed, turning the sand green, and then molten beneath furious beams. But with her focus on Tek, she never saw the long shadow skimming the surf until it swallowed her. Cyborg tried to shout a warning, but was too slow. He could only watch as the largest woman he had ever seen dropped from the sky and drove her fist into the back of Starfire's head.

The large woman watched Starfire stumble forward into the surf. Easily topping Starfire by two heads, the woman wore a red, sleeveless harness over her muscled build. A shock of ginger hair jetted back from her smug, sculpted expression as she nodded upward. "Sorry about the wait. Had to park the Pequod."

Overhead, a squat, alien aircraft hovered on whisper-quiet thrusters. It was a full category smaller than the lumbering Icarus, but nevertheless carried a deadly quality in its gunmetal hull. Just looking at it, Cyborg could see it had been built for speed, stealth, and with enough teeth to give his jet a run for its money.

Movement under the Icarus drew Cyborg's limited eye. He saw the shadows beneath the great jet stir. Parts of the shadow stepped out into the light, carrying with it a dark figure in a domino mask. A blue chevron cut the figure's chest, running down the length of his arms. Cyborg recognized the ascended sidekick, and growled his name. "Nightwing."

"Nice work, Outsiders," Nightwing said to his team, who stood watch over the ambushed Titans. He holstered a second birdarang, no longer needed for Cyborg, and brushed the dark hair from his eyes. "Metamorpho, you okay over there?"

Tek's struggling had drawn numb with shock at her friends' sudden fall. The sand around her hardened, becoming twisted body shackles of sandstone, as though a modern art sculpture had snared her. The base of the sculpture bulged and shifted, growing a broad face of uncanny mirth. His eyes of sand shifted, finding Nightwing among the others.

"We're okay over here, kid," Metamorpho told Nightwing. His gaze rolled up, trickling grains, and he added, "We're not here to hurt you, darlin'. Just take it easy up there."

Beast Boy emerged from the crater in the sand. He flopped to the edge, pushed by the meteor that had crushed him. The lithe young meteor climbed out after him, straining the taut, lightning-striped lines of her uniform. She had wiry hair and full lips, which she pursed pensively at the green boy at her feet. "I hope I didn't hit him too hard," she said.

A thin, smirking man whistled from where he leaned against the Icarus' landing strut, formerly hidden from view. He twirled a boomerang, the very same that had knocked Raven unconscious. "Wouldn't worry about these kiddies, Thunder. Ask GL, they like it rough," he told her in a voice thick with mirth and Aussie.

Kneeling over Beast Boy, Thunder pried his eyelid open, worriedly checking his pupils. "Not everybody likes doling out head injuries as much as you, Boomerang," she snarked.

The thin Aussie scowled, and snapped his boomerang back into its holster on his arm. "_Captain_ Boomerang, thank you," he said.

The enormous redhead staggered onto the beach, dripping and annoyed. Her thick arms bulged with the effort of holding a struggling Starfire. Though groggy, the Tamaranian thrashed with everything she had, even tossing her hair into her captor's face. Sputtering, the redhead snarled, "Knock it off, Sherbet, or you'll wind up like the goth and the green kid!"

"Grace!" Nightwing snapped, watching the struggle in the surf, "Don't hurt her. We're not here to fight."

Bushido thought otherwise, but kept his mouth shut and his eyes on his sword, which murmured metallically against the blade of the woman before him. Her sunrise uniform curved around the contours of an athletic body capped by short, charcoal hair. A half-cowl wrapped around her eyes and ears, protecting both, but leaving her sneering disgust for him unmasked. "Katana," he said with a nod. "I heard you were good."

She replied in an even tone. "And I heard you were an assassin. Don't move. I'd hate to sully my blade with a soul like yours, but I will."

"My soul is spoken for. But thank you," he said politely.

Nightwing approached Cyborg, unworried by the Titan's impotent struggling against his vivid blue prison. Cyborg snarled and spat at him, "My own impact foam? Birdie, you just earned yourself a double helping of my foot up your ass."

"I'm sorry about this, Cyborg," Nightwing said. He drew from his belt a thin device that ended with a rubber aerial. "I know this is dirty pool, but I can't risk you running again. We have to take your friend in to the League. You had your chance to play ball. Now we have to do things our way."

Raising the antennaed device to his mouth, he said crisply, "Pequod: disable their jet."

The deadly, hovering aircraft flashed with white fangs. Blinding blasts lanced from its nose to hammer the Icarus. At first, the massive jet's armor held, glowing white-hot under the onslaught. But after too many hits, its fuselage buckled with a screech. Precision blasts holed the Icarus' wings, engines, and hull.

Cyborg closed his eye, unable to bear the screech of his jet's hull rending beneath the laser assault. A furious tear trickled down his cheek, trailing onto the lip of his foam prison. When he could look again, he focused his rage and helplessness into a burning glare, which he leveled at an apologetic Nightwing. "How did you find us?" he asked through his teeth.

Nightwing replaced the autopilot control on his belt. "Your satellite uplink shuffle was good. Almost flawless. It took my contact two whole days to backtrack you here, and another eight hours just to sneak in to make sure your spaceship didn't detect us."

"Word to the wise," Captain Boomerang called. "Next time, consider running, not hiding. Moving targets are harder to hit."

"Wh-What are you gonna do to me?" Tek mewled. She trembled, chafing against the rough stone bonds that wrapped her limbs and suffocated her back, choking her suit's aperture.

"You, we'll take up to the League. They need to see you about something," Nightwing said. "At the least, you owe Blue Beetle an apology for his Bug, although…maybe he'd be willing to call it even," he remarked, and glanced up at the smoking, holed Icarus. "As for the rest of you, you can hang out here. Cool off for a couple of hours."

Cyborg strained his strength to its limit, trying to break the bonds of the foam to no avail. "Cool off? You're kidnapping—!"

"Wake up, Toaster Face," Captain Boomerang shot. "The minute you shot at the League, you became the bad guy. The fact that the League is keeping it under wraps just means they're being nice. Keep mouthin' off, and we won't—"

"Boomerang, shut up!" Nightwing snapped. He massaged the bridge of his mask, sighing. "Tek will be fine. You have my word. In the meantime, you'll stay here. We'll have the League send down a Javelin to take you home in a few hours."

"Or they could just ask for a ride."

The voice froze Nightwing's blood. He spun from Cyborg to gape at a figure in the surf, a figure that had appeared from nowhere. As Nightwing staggered in shock, he stepped out of Cyborg's way, offering the trapped Titan full view of the last person he had ever expected to find on the island.

Starfire's furious struggles died upon hearing the voice. She fell limp in Grace's grasp, her body overcome by a torrent of feelings and thoughts she couldn't begin to sort. Her eyes cooled and welled with tears. Her lips parted for a breathless gasp. "X'Hal…"

A strong shape strode from the surf, trailing scalloped wings of pure night. His body bore the color of foul blood, with trimmings of dull gold. Glistening onyx capped his fists and feet, wrapped around his collar, and masked his hollow white eyes. As his wings pushed back over his shoulders, he revealed a gleaming badge on his left breast, a stylized "R" that broke from its circle at both ends.

Nightwing's eyes narrowed upon the teen's silent arrival. Aside from the water running down his cape, the teen might have appeared out of thin air. Even his dark hair was dry, short and spiked. "Tim…" Nightwing said.

"Hello, Dick," said Robin. He stopped several paces short of the Outsiders and their captives, ignoring the shocked gapes from both.

"I like the new look," Nightwing said, his mind racing. He searched his young successor for any hint of intent, but Robin's face was as much a mask as the angled domino over his eyes. "Where'd you come from?"

"I was in the area," Robin said in leveled tones. "I thought I could help."

Grace hefted the limp weight in her arms and scoffed. "Awful nice of you, Mini-Wing, but I think we got things here."

Nightwing's hands curled into fists at his sides. "He doesn't mean us," he said.

Robin's eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. "No. I don't."

Tension pulled between the six Outsiders on the beach. Their focus drew upon Robin. The dark Teen Wonder bristled at their readied blades, narrow glares, and cocked boomerang, but he gave them no other sign of concern. He did not fear them, which made the Outsiders all the warier.

Nightwing watched Robin carefully. He knew he could take Robin down himself if the standoff came to blows. But Robin knew that, too. Searching every detail of the beach with his masked, stony eyes, Nightwing said calmly, "Stand down, Tim. No one has to get hurt here."

Flipping his silvery boomerang, the brash young Captain chimed, "Flit away, little bird. Wouldn't want to see you get stomped 'cause you tried to rush us, would we?"

Robin's gloved hands rested on his utility belt. Each Outsider tensed, ready to abandon their covered Titan should Robin draw a weapon. But he stood stock-still, draped in his scalloped cape. A maddening calm had settled into his features.

His thumb drifted, grazing the buckle of his belt. The buckle flashed once with a soft glow.

Fifty yards off the shore, the tossing surf frothed harder. Waves parted way for a metal hump to rise from the water, tossing as pray from its hard gray sheen. The hump rose and grew until it bobbed above the surface like an island of metal. The instant it crested over the waves, its top flipped open, revealing a hatch that led to parts unknown inside the small island.

Confusion choked Nightwing for half a second. It melted into surprise, trickling down the back of his throat to seize his heart as five shapes darted from the hatch: red, black, red, red, and blue blurred forth, soaring into and above and across the water straight for shore.

Superboy soared high, his red shield gleaming on his black shirt. A pair of yellow boots sat soles-up in his grasp, from which hung a red archer marked with an "S" badge and possessed of a drawn bow. Speedy's upside-down face split with a sense of joyous righteousness as he shook the beach with his cry. "Titans East, GO!"

In a delirium of shock, Cyborg's brain could only force one thought into his mouth: "Titans WHAT?" he cried.

Upside-down in Superboy's grasp, Speedy drew and nocked an arrow with one smooth motion. The bowstring twanged, launching the arrow a second before Superboy dropped him. As he flipped and fell, he drew his bowstring back with another arrow. The bowstring sang again before his feet sank into the wet sand.

His first arrowhead burst and ballooned into a boxing glove, which struck Katana in the chest. She staggered at the blow, unable to bring her sword to bear against the second arrow.

Speedy's second shot split like the first arrowhead had, this time dismantling into a weighted bolo. The cord snared Katana's arm and chest, binding them together as the impact yanked her off her feet. Bushido stepped aside, politely allowing her to fall before pressing his blade's tip to her throat.

Grace snarled at the archer landing several feet away. Hoisting Starfire underarm, she marched forward, flexing her free hand. She laughed as Speedy threatened her with a third arrow. "No bondage on the first date, Junior," she snapped.

A hand grasped the back of her crop top, hoisting her off the beach. She dropped Starfire in surprise and looked up. Superboy hovered over her, grinning, easily hefting her one-handed. "You're kind of a big girl," he said.

Then, without preamble, he swung her around and tossed her high over the ocean. Grace dwindled toward the horizon, trailing a string of curses over the open water. She disappeared into a distant splash that silenced her.

Thunder braced herself against the charge. When the hatch had spat the new Titans forth, she had felt one set of eyes single her out immediately. A mixture of regality and uncertainty swam in the flying girl's blue scowl, framed by hair that made the sun seem dim. Her red armor bore a golden double-crest that froze Thunder's heart for one instant. "Wonder Woman?" she breathed.

Wonder Girl sped toward Thunder, grim and straight like the edge of a hanging axe. "Not yet," she uttered. She loosed the lasso tied at her waist, letting it trail behind her as she bore down on the Outsider.

The startled Thunder stepped back, thinking on her feet. But her feet failed her, stumbling over something soft and furry. She bounced onto her backside and looked down, spying a dog-sized rodent covered in shaggy grass with a long, segmented tail stringing behind it. "A…possum?" she muttered aloud.

Thunder screamed as the possum swelled and became a green gorilla, whose dripping fangs exploded with a roar. Her density increased on reflex, sinking her into the sand as the gorilla pounded his chest. She weighed five hundred pounds by the time his paws clasped her ankle, and her weight kept increasing. As strong as he was, the gorilla could hardly drag her through the sand at her maximum density.

Wonder Girl was much, much stronger. She landed nimbly next to the gorilla and tore Thunder's leg from his grasp. With the barest of grunts, she swung the super-dense Outsider up and over her head, and pounded the beach with her human hammer. Sand sprayed in a geyser around Thunder, who laid facedown and unconscious beneath the rain of grit.

Shrinking back into his human shape, Beast Boy gaped at the slight, stunning blonde as she replaced her lasso on her belt. "…whoa," he breathed.

Captain Boomerang sprinted across the beach with three of his namesake cocked between his fingers. His vision flashed with red, and he felt a hot breeze as he charged the stoic Robin. When he flung his hand out, he found it emptied of boomerangs. He reached for more, and found each of his holsters empty. Every weapon he had was gone from his jacket and belt.

As he patted his empty holsters, he heard a snicker from behind. A begoggled brunette boy stood behind him. The lean lines of the boy's suit glistened with a wide red lightning bolt struck down a field of white. A pile of boomerangs sat at his feet. "Yeah," the lightning boy said. "Now I guess you're just 'Captain Nothing.'"

The Captain drew breath to retort. The air in his lungs froze when he saw shadows grow and stretch beneath his feet, heedless of the sun. Darkness swallowed his boots and began pulling him down. The very beach ate him with inexorable purpose, miring him in cold and bleakness. His feeble struggles and panicked cries did nothing to stop the shadow. Black sand ate him up to his neck, trapping him at eye level with the startled lightning boy's shoes.

Moving like liquid, the shadow poured upward out of the sand. Its blackness softened into navy blue fabric, beneath which a tired Raven sighed. She rubbed a lump under her hood and glared down at the stricken and planted Captain.

The lightning boy shivered at the edge of her glare. "Wow. You're creepy," he stammered.

Her glare flickered fully upon him. "And you're not funny. 'Captain Nothing?'"

Nightwing veered to one side, filling his hands with birdarangs as he zigzagged for Metamorpho's living sculpture-trap. "Rex, keep her secure!" he shouted. The birdarangs flew from his fingertips, streaking at the stoic Robin stalking up the beach.

The surf behind Robin surged forward and around him, and then crested impossibly into a wall of water. Nightwing's birdarangs disappeared into the frothing wall.

Crashing back to the sand, the curtain of water revealed a dark-eyed warrior sculpted from blue and green scales. Black hair streamed behind his scowl like a banner of war. His otherworldly beauty twisted with determination at the sight of Nightwing. He charged.

The scaled warrior's punch whistled over Nightwing's ducking head. Nightwing lunged forward, driving his knuckles hard under the boy's ribs. The force of the punch rattled back up Nightwing's arms and slid the boy back almost half a foot, and nothing more. Throbbing pain swallowed Nightwing's hand as he pulled it back.

"Aqualad," Nightwing grunted, clutching his fist. "Atlantean strength. Great."

An iron grip born from the crushing depths of the ocean closed around Nightwing's wrists. Aqualad shrugged, nearly apologetic, and said, "Sorry about this." He spun, swinging Nightwing high and hard into the air. As the Outsider tumbled overhead, Aqualad gestured to the surf around his feet. A waterspout jetted before him, striking Nightwing further out to sea.

Backed into a proverbial corner and surrounded by Titans, Metamorpho melted back into his pile, drawing Tek deeper into himself. His face emerged once more, scowling at the encroaching teens with a gritty brow. "Ease back, kids! I don't want to get rough!"

Robin reached the ball trapping Cyborg. He knelt and examined the foam, testing it with the tip of his glove. Without glancing back, he said, "Impulse. Speedy."

The lightning-branded boy —Impulse—vanished in a blur, pulling at Raven's cloak with his vortex. He surrounded Metamorpho in a one-man barricade of super speed, streaking into his own after-image until he became a red ring around the living tendrils of sand.

Blinded by the wind-whipped grit, Metamorpho coiled tighter around Tek, and cried, "Hey!"

Impulse raised a hand to the living pile. His arm blurred further, quivering as though it were in a thousand places at once. He thrust his unstable arm into the base of Metamorpho, stirring the Outsider with force and speed that shook the sand to its molecular core.

Tek and Metamorpho screamed, she in fear and he in pain. The destabilizing touch that Impulse thrust into her prison shook Tek free. Her flailing arms fell into the flying grasps of Superboy and Wonder Girl, who lifted her out of the sand and into the safety of the sky.

Running forward, Speedy nocked a blue arrow. He tensed his bowstring, and shouted, "Clear, speed freak!"

The blur surrounding Metamorpho spun away as Speedy's arrow struck the heart of the sandy tendrils. Blue gel burst from the arrow, sinking deeper into the spun sand. Metamorpho's misshapen face cried out as the blue crept through his body. His cry elongated into a low, slowing pitch, which dwindled into nothing as his body froze blue.

Tek hung in her heroes' hands, watching her captor solidify into a statue. Her knotted innards loosened enough for her to breathe as she was returned to the ground, where the other Titans...all of them…gathered near Metamorpho's frozen, haunting, silent scream.

"Dude." Beast Boy stared in awed horror, his face mimicking Metamorpho's. Behind him, Raven helped balance Tek as Superboy and Wonder Girl set her down. "What…What did you do to him?"

Shouldering his bow, Speedy slicked back his fiery hair, and said, "Molecular coagulant. I figure we have at least a half hour before he can pull his molecules out of that gunk."

Beast Boy's poke made the blue statue jiggle. He smirked. "Heh. Like Jello." Then he turned back to face the newcomers with a smile, and said, "Oh, right. Almost forgot. Thanks, guys. And also…WHAT THE HELL?" he exploded, flinging his hands overhead.

Superboy eased his outburst with upturned palms. "Dude, simmer down. I'm sure you guys have lost of questions…"

"No," Bushido said, shaking his head. "I'm fairly certain that 'What the hell?' covers most everything." He trudged through the sand, dragging behind him one of Katana's legs. She slid lifelessly, her head lolling behind him as he tugged. A trio of feathered darts stood grouped in her chest. At the gaggle of concerned glares, Bushido glanced back, and said, "What? They're knockout darts."

Robin stood and pulled a small aerosol can from his utility belt. He sprayed the foam prison around Cyborg with a fine, acrid mist. "There's no time for questions right now. We need to go if we're going to stay ahead of the League," he said.

The acrid spray made Cyborg's foam bubble and pop. Hissing sapphire smoke, the foam dissolved away, dripping off of Cyborg's armor. He fell forward onto his feet and braced himself with one hand. Then, slowly, he collected himself to loom over Robin, hanging a quiet fury over the Teen Wonder's head.

Cyborg felt a furious shout fill his throat. It ballooned behind his tongue, growing so large that it choked itself, emerging as a strained growl. "Who do you think you are, coming here and barking orders at us?"

Raven stepped forward with Tek on her arm. "Victor…"

"You disappear for months," Cyborg snarled down in Robin's implacable face. "You don't call, you don't show up, or even let us know that you're alive. And now, suddenly, you show up out of the blue telling us what we have to do, with a brand new team of wannabes calling themselves Titans?"

Speedy shared a worried glance with Aqualad, and leaned on his bow. "Weren't we Titans already?" he asked. Aqualad motioned for him to keep his voice down.

Terrible rage trembled in Cyborg's fist, which lifted, sorely tempted to put something, anything, resembling a reaction on Robin's blank mask. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Robin tilted his chin to meet Cyborg's glare. Absolute zero radiated from the white depths of his eyes as he said in a chilling calm, "I think where I've been and what you think of me doesn't matter. I think I and these 'wannabes' are your only ticket off the island right now. I think I know a lot more about what's happening, and why the League want Tek, than you do. So I think you'll shut up, and you'll get in line, or I'll leave you here to rust. Does that cover it?"

Cyborg's fist tensed backward, ready to separate Robin's head from his shoulders, when Tek leapt forward and caught his arm. "Vic, no!" she sobbed.

Wonder Girl stalked up and slipped between Cyborg and Robin, separating the two leaders with arms akimbo and a furrowed brow. "What Robin meant to say," she explained, casting a venomous glare back at her translatee, "is that we all need to work together starting right now if we're going to beat this. We're here to help. Please believe that."

"What 'this?'" Cyborg demanded in a snarl. Tek's desperate hug was the only thing keeping him from circumnavigating Wonder Girl to throttle stoic Robin. "What the hell is Titans East? And what do you know about this mess with the League?"

Robin turned, sweeping his cape behind him. He pulled a rubber-aerialed control from his utility belt and thumbed its side. "Come with us and find out," he said.

The metal island from which the new Titans had sprang surrounded itself with a gush of boiling white sea. Its surface surged upward, following the hatch out of the water. From the froth emerged the sides and belly of a dripping white alien aircraft. It was a colossal, continuous wing that rivaled the Icarus in size, as broad as it was long.

The risen jet's angular canopy glared at the gathered teens. As it floated forward on hissing thrusters, its belly opened with a mouth ramp that lowered to the sand, landing with a muted _thump_. Robin strode up the ramp without another word.

The rest of Robin's new Titans started to follow. Superboy trailed furthest behind, his concerned gaze drawn back to the other Titans gathered beneath their broken jet. "So…coming?" he asked awkwardly.

Cyborg glared hard past Superboy's question, past Impulse and Wonder Girl, past the two—former?—honorary Titans. He scorched the back of Robin's head with his eyes, his fury rivaled only by his unanswered questions. He felt Tek shuddering under his arm with muted sobs, and saw her bury her face in the crook of his armor. Beside him, Raven, Bushido, and Beast Boy watched him expectantly.

Gathering Tek by the waist, Cyborg began to follow. "Not like we have a choice," he grunted.

Shrugging with apology, Superboy smiled. Then he snapped his fingers. "Oh, right," he said.

His eyes flashed red as he turned up to the hovering Pequod. Heat leapt through his gaze, pushing into the underbelly of the Outsider's empty jet. Its gunmetal hull glowed and softened, and then erupted under Superboy's vision. Fire plumed and thunder clapped as the Pequod belched smoke from its viewports. It wobbled and fell into the sea, lifting a column of superheated steam in its wake.

Cyborg led his real Titans behind Robin's fresh batch of pretenders. He kept his team close with a purposeful look, and spoke in a low tone. The crackling death throes of the Pequod undercut his voice. "Everyone keep your eyes and ears peeled. I don't trust these guys further than I could throw them."

With a hand hung near his blade's hilt, Bushido followed, his foxy eyes stalking Robin's team. "They will not have a chance to betray us," he promised Cyborg.

Raven drew up her hood, hiding her scowl. "I don't think they plan to," Raven murmured. "The rest of them seem genuine. Robin…is holding something back. Which is nothing new, except…"

Tek pulled her teary eyes from Cyborg's chest. Trembling, she asked, "Except what?"

"…he's different now," was all Raven could say.

Beast Boy lagged last, scratching his head. "Guys, it's Robin. It's gonna be okay, right? What do you think, Kory? …Kory?" He looked around in sudden realization. "Kory?"

Starfire knelt in the sand half a battlefield away, where Grace had first dropped her. The surf climbed over her legs and waist, burying her in increments of wet sand. Her hair pooled behind her, sodden and limp, like the rest of her. A galaxy of distance separated her eyes from the beach. As Beast Boy jogged up to her, blocking her view of the risen aircraft, her gaze glazed, focusing inward.

She shook numbly in Beast Boy's grasp. No madder how hard he jarred her, he got no response. "Kory? Kory!" Kneeling down, he looked into her haunted vacancy, and cringed. "Oh, hell. I think we broke Starfire…"

* * *

The laboratory languished in its abandonment, rife with the scars of haste. Broken glass, once beakers and tubes and windows, littered the plastic floor. The glass underfoot crunched hollowly against stripped walls. Sockets and pale absences marked where machines had stood, their purpose now unfathomable. The ceiling hung low enough to touch on flat feet.

Batman hunched in the darkened lab, looking up at its one remaining fixture. His reflection stretched across the cracked surface of an immense, clear cylinder. The reflected Batman's thin lips were distorted by the curve of the glass until they pulled back in a mocking smile. His real lips curled down until the funhouse smile vanished.

Touching his belt, Batman activated the wafer microphone concealed against his throat in his cowl. "Case file Oh-Two-Nine-Eight-Three, October Third, Oh-Nine-Twenty-Eight Zulu. The laboratory in Toulouse is as abandoned as Oracle claimed. Whoever was here evacuated quickly but completely."

He turned in a slow circle. Glass grinded beneath his boots. "The lab setup appears to have been similar to those in Madrid and Montpellier. There appears to be wiring suitable for heavy industrial equipment, suggesting extensive power needs. We might be able to track future labs based on localized drains in municipal power, but I doubt it. If this 'Brain' character is as smart as he's rumored to be, he'll have alternatives to tapping mundane sources.

"There are some…questions raised by these labs. Each one is hidden in urban areas. Hiding in plain sight. And each of them has nearly identical configurations, suggesting that the same lab was moved around for security reasons.

"But a lab of this size couldn't have produced the kind of power armor we're dealing with. Not solely. The quantum leaps in metallurgy alone would take at least five times the equipment a space of this size could hold."

His frown pierced his cowl to sweep the chaos carefully constructed around him. "Given this, I can only conclude that—"

"—someone is setting you up, Rich Boy."

Batman whirled to face the lab's only entrance. A batarang hung cocked in his fingers, ready to home in on the source of the bemused words. He lowered the weapon at the sight of a stout, smiling woman with close-cropped hair. She filled the doorway with a tailored skirt suit. Four men flanked her in black business wear stretched over impressive musculature, their faces sculpted to resemble the living concept of generic, and masked with sunglasses too heavy for this darkness.

Amanda Waller, the director of CADMUS, gave Batman an insufferable smirk. "You aren't the only one who can surprise people, you know," she told him.

**To Be Continued**

* * *

I loathe doing this. Nevertheless, it's for the best.

You may have noticed that this story hasn't been updating as regularly as it used to. Those of you who read my other works might also have noticed that I haven't updated any of my other works. I cannot apologize profusely enough for this.

Recently, I have suffered a…personal, emotional derailment. There's no other way to describe it. For no reason I can discern, I have completely lost control of my focus and interest in everything I do. Frankly, it terrifies me. But worse, it's caused a near-total meltdown in all of my writing. This is unacceptable.

The past few chapters of Teen Titans: Adaptation has not been as good as they should have been, including this one. For this, too, I apologize. I need to return this story to the quality it deserves. And unfortunately, to do that, I'm going to have to get my head straightened out.

I'm putting this, and all of my stories, on indefinite hiatus. Effectively, you won't be able to tell the difference from the last few months, seeing as how I never freaking updated anyway. I just wanted you all to know why, and to not expect any updates for the foreseeable future.

Thank you to everyone who reads this story. Your support has kept me going longer than a silly story where Robin gets superpowers ever should have. I'm not abandoning Adaptation, or Our Power Together. But I'm not writing like I should, and I need to fix that.

Cheers to all.

Cyberwraith9

* * *


	30. Lost Little Girl: Blind Justice

**

* * *

**

Teen Titans  
**Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Lost Little Girl**: _Blind Justice_

A domino frown filled the Watchtower's main monitor. Heavy brows and dark hair framed a face whose grim mood bled out from the massive screen and infected Superman's chiseled features. The Man of Steel braced himself against the edge of the console, and said, "Nightwing, you can't be serious. This is sheer lunacy."

Nightwing's empty eyes narrowed. His voice crawled out of the comm system, too heavy to mistake for anything but defeat. "_Believe me, if I made this up, the story would have a different ending. We had the Titans contained when some sort of Junior Justice League jumped out of the water and got the drop on us. By the time we pulled together, they were all long gone._"

Seated at the console Superman grasped, J'onn J'onzz brought up the League's roster on a secondary screen. He frowned, and rumbled, "Junior Justice League? We haven't—"

"_Obviously,_" Nightwing said. "_But I saw what I saw. Little versions of Flash, Arthur, Diana, Arrow…and you,_" he finished hesitantly, looking at Superman.

Superman grimaced. "Conner," he grunted. "Tell me he wasn't behind this."

Nightwing echoed Superman's chagrin. "_No. That honor belonged to the little 'me.' I'd be proud if it hadn't made my team look like amateurs._" His embarrassment cooled. "_From what we saw, they took off in a giant jet, the kind I thought you guys had a trademark on._"

"Then we're back to square one," Superman said.

J'onn interjected, "Actually, no." His big hands filled the keyboard, moving with preternatural dexterity. For someone of his size, the Martian Manhunter had always impressed Superman with his precision and control, two problems with which Superman knew they both constantly struggled.

A secondary window pushed Nightwing's face to one side of the monitor. The new window displayed a gridline map of the Pacific Ocean. A small, blinking, stationary "O" represented the Outsiders' shipwreck. But more pertinent was the small, blinking "T" that crawled across the blue of the map. The "T" worked its way steadily toward the southern shore of California, unconcerned by Superman's astonishment.

"There is a large, unregistered craft broadcasting as the 'East Wing,' moving on a vector away from the Outsiders at excessive speeds," J'onn reported. "If it remains on course, it will arrive within a the hour at—"

_"—at Jump City,_" Nightwing finished. "_Son of a bitch. Robin's taking them back home._"

J'onn's overhanging brow descended, obscuring his featureless eyes. "But why would they return following such an escape? It makes no sense."

"_It means they know something we don't,_" Nightwing growled. "_And we let them get away…_"

Superman ended their speculation with a sharp tone. "It doesn't matter anymore. What matters is stopping this situation before someone gets seriously hurt."

"_Does my pride count?_" asked Nightwing.

"Stay there," Superman told him. "We'll have a cleanup crew down there as soon as we can to take care of you and your ship. I'm taking care of this situation personally. Watchtower, out."

As Superman leaned across the panel to close the channel, a relentless laugh assaulted him from behind. The laughter spread, echoing throughout the cavernous Ops of the Watchtower. Scattered technicians turned with a start at the mirth, which pealed from the trim goatee of Green Arrow as he ascended the ramp to the command deck.

The emerald archer held his sides, which threatened to split his jaunty green uniform with his laughter. Tears lurked in the rims of his mask. "Oh, man," he sighed between laughs. "Those kids really skunked you good, Superman."

Superman's eye twitched beneath his furrowed brow. "Is there something you find particularly funny about this?" he asked slowly.

Straightening his hat, Green Arrow bit down on the tail end of his laughter. Even so, his voice trembled with restraint. "Maybe," he said grinningly. "It could be that your ace team of villain-catchers got their asses handed to them by the cast of High School Musical. Or it could be that those same kids are flashing their asses at you while they hightail it back home. It's tough to narrow down."

While Superman stewed in Arrow's smile, J'onn remained focused. The Martian swiveled from the controls, making steeples of his fingers in a contemplative gesture. With picturesque calm, J'onn said to Arrow, "Nightwing claimed that one of the children resembled a youthful version of you."

"That'd be my sidekick, Speedy." Green Arrow shrugged, jostling the bow strung over his shoulder. "We haven't seen much of each other since I joined the League. And before you ask me, I had no idea he was joining a team of his own. This is news to me."

The pointed look Arrow gave Superman made the senior Leaguer's expression sharpen. "And that doesn't concern you? He's attacking other heroes."

Green Arrow's brow knitted at the accusation. "I trust Speedy to do the right thing," he said, and folded his arms. "Kid may be rough around the edges, but he knows right from wrong."

"No one is questioning his morality," J'onn said. He stood, interposing himself in the heated look that grew between Superman and Green Arrow. "Only his judgment. You must understand what is at stake here. The entire League could be compromised if we do not—"

"Hey, I don't understand bupkis, pal," Green Arrow snapped. "All anyone outside of the big seven knows is that you're doing everything you can to bring in the Titans. Now, maybe they don't handle the big fish, and maybe they don't always play nice, but they're out there doing good. That's something I can appreciate," he said, and cocked his fists on his hips.

"Well, you'll be fully briefed on how serious this is while we're riding down," Superman told him. Fearless though Green Arrow was, he took a step back as Superman pushed past him and started down the ramp.

Startled, Green Arrow chased after Superman. "Me?" he asked.

Superman glared up as he left, catching J'onn's attention. "Tell the bay to prep a Javelin. We launch as soon as everyone else is on board," he said.

"Else?" J'onn rumbled. "Who else are you taking with you?"

Glancing back, Superman froze Green Arrow with a hard look. "I think the kids already made that decision for us," he said. "I just hope it's not too late to stop them from making a worse mistake."

* * *

Batman lowered his arm. His body disappeared behind a curtain of his cape. With uncanny calm, he stalked forward, earning pointed glares from Amanda Waller's suited retinue. Their generic scowls did nothing to slow Batman's approach, but he stopped several arm's lengths away out of a sense of courtesy.

Waller was a stout woman, and unabashed about it. Her skin, barely two shades lighter than the deep shadows of the lab, contrasted sharply with the regal purple tones of her crisp suit and skirt. The cut of her clothes suggested a military discipline reflected in her posture.

Though the Dark Knight loomed nearly two heads taller than her, Waller did not look up to meet his gaze. She stared through the sigil on his chest, and spoke in bemused tones. "You're pretty far from the Gotham slums," she said. "Did someone steal a loaf of bread on your watch? Or perhaps your new hobby is chasing imaginary scientists."

Batman spoke in a careful monotone. "I'm surprised CADMUS is taking an interest in anything that isn't related to the League. Or were you between clones at the moment?"

Waller let the corner of her mouth rise. "Cute. But cute won't solve your little mystery, will it?" She spread her arms, encompassing the interior of the bleak, glass-strewn, gutted laboratory in her gesture. "A host of little facilities, all cropping up conveniently after you discover the truth about that little robot girl. Each lab is just like the other, devoid of clues or leads, with just enough left in them to keep you wondering about her."

Batman's cowl blazed with a triangular glare. His gaze, hidden behind lenses, swept the façade around them. After two other labs, he had come to the same conclusion. He could see beneath the stage dressing meant to misdirect him. Everything about these labs was too neatly disorganized, too perfectly hurried. An experienced detective, he could recognize a red herring when he saw it.

"They're fakes," he said. "Good ones, but fakes. Whoever's behind this wants me to believe that the Brain is responsible for the girl's power."

Nodding, Waller said, "It took CADMUS five months to figure it out, and even longer to discover who was actually behind the girl and her real mission."

He grunted. "It isn't the Brain. But it is someone with considerable resources. Someone with access to alien technology. Someone with an interest in metahumans. It's a short list," he said with a pointed stare.

Waller smirked, and said, "I'm flattered, but not culpable. My superiors are just as worried about the real mastermind as you and your floating clubhouse are."

"Who?" he said.

Her expression became coy. The thought of holding information that the vaunted Batman lacked clearly amused her. "Have you ever heard of Checkmate?"

The word lifted Batman's brow. "No," he admitted.

"Not surprising. They're a new player, or at least good enough to stay hidden for longer than we've known about them. A secret organization that sees themselves as a watchdog for the growing metahuman 'issue.' We didn't actually become aware of their existence until the girl cropped up." Waller's smugness evaporated. "We're still not entirely sure of their capabilities."

"And they're muscling in on your business," Batman noted. "What are their intentions? Who are they? What do they want?"

"We aren't sure, exactly. But with the information and technology they possess, we do know this much," she said, and paused meaningfully. "To know what they know, Checkmate has to have people in the League and in CADMUS."

He nodded. Whoever or whatever Checkmate was, it would have the edge on both CADMUS and the League by hiding in the wings until one side overcame the other. Members in both organizations explained the girl's knowledge. Everything fit perfectly. "What else?" he insisted gruffly.

Waller's eyes drew slyly across his scowl. "I don't think so. I'm done giving you information."

"If what you're telling me is true, then we have a common enemy," Batman said.

"Which is why I'm willing to 'bargain' for more information," she told him. "I'll give you everything we've got on Checkmate: bank records, intercepted codes, the works. But in exchange, I want the girl."

Batman stiffened. "You're joking," he said.

The four suits behind Waller bristled at Batman's scoff. The brunette of them stepped forward, his scowl burning, but then stopped at Waller's muted gesture.

Waller let her voice drop as she retorted, "Whatever else you think of me, 'Batman,' I take my job very seriously. And my job is to keep loose cannons like that girl away from innocent Americans like the ones living next to your kids' giant T. CADMUS is better equipped to contain her, maybe even fix her."

"Or turn her into a weapon you can use against the League," Batman said without a trace of irony.

Waller smirked. Her dark eyes glimmered. "It's a calculated risk. But as I understand it, your little farm team is raising Cain over this girl. They won't stop once you take her up into space. They'll keep coming after her until they get her back, or until there's no more hope. I, on the other hand, have a spotless track record when it comes to making metahumans disappear."

Tension bunched in Batman's jaw. It rankled him to think that Waller knew something he didn't. More so, it made him suspicious. She and her shadowy organization wielded power that left him cold inside, the kind of power that no money or mutation could offer. She had connections, intelligence, patience, and a chilling ruthlessness. His own secrets had proven helpless against her investigations.

Batman had his own talents for finding secrets. Yet as he searched Waller's hard eyes, and read between the furrows in her forehead, he realized something. Beneath her smugness and stern demeanor, Waller knew even more than she let on. Batman needed to know what she knew, and he might not have the time to apply his own methods to discovering the knowledge she offered him.

He had to accept a calculated risk, and hope that, when the time came, the Titans would be able to do the right thing.

"I want the girl's safety guaranteed," Batman said after a moment. "Full cooperation and information share. You're going to help her. She's as much a victim in this as anyone."

Her smirk became stony. "Joint custody? Agreed. Your League brings her in. My people take care of her."

The communicator in Batman's ear chirped. He turned his back to Waller and touched the side of his cowl. After listening a moment, he tapped his cowl twice in acknowledgement. Glancing back, he said, "It looks like you caught up with me just in time. The Titans have been spotted running back for Jump City. I'm on my way now to intercept them. I'll contact you when we have something."

"Wry not take us with you? Partner?" Waller asked wryly.

Something akin to bemusement cracked Batman's granite jaw. "You should have worked transport into our deal," he said. Blue light manifested around Batman, swallowing his outline in luminescent streaks. He and the light faded from the empty lab, leaving only faint warmth where he had stood.

Waller's wry expression broke into a calculating smile. "Fetch," she murmured to the warm afterimage burned into her retinas. "Good boy."

* * *

"_—which is where the trail goes cold,_" the digital mask said. "_Sorry I couldn't get you more, but these people are good at covering their tracks. I need more time to put a case together._"

Cyborg sat in the cockpit of the strange jet, strapped into the copilot seat, and stared at the central monitor set in the control panel. A digital mask stared back with matte, empty eyes. Its face hovered in segments with no neck to support it. Its mouth jostled awkwardly in time with its synthesized, feminine voice.

Seated at the controls, Robin nodded. "I appreciate the help, Oracle. Thanks."

"_Don't thank me yet,_" the mask—Oracle—told him. "_I had to tell the League about your friend's data hijacking when I told you. You do know they're coming for you right now, don't you?_"

"All according to plan," Robin said. He reached up, flicking a series of switches on an overhead panel. "Keep me informed."

"_You owe me one, little bird,_" Oracle told him impishly.

"I wish it were just the one. Out." He flicked the last switch in the row. Oracle's mask disappeared from the central screen, replaced by a snowstorm of static. "Jamming is up. It'll make it just hard enough to make them think we don't want to be caught."

Superboy sat behind Robin, strapped in at the primary weapons console. He scratched his head, ruffling his dark hair, and said, "But we do want to be caught?"

"We want to be 'chased,'" Robin said.

Behind Cyborg, Bushido sat strapped in ponderous silence next to the secondary weapons console. A frown creased his smooth forehead. "And these answers your…Oracle…discovered? The answers to Tek's past? You do not want to tell her?"

"No," said Robin.

Both Bushido and Superboy waited, expecting more. They received silence instead. Exchanging a glance with the swordsman, Superboy said, "Uh, why? If you know all that, and you don't tell her, isn't that basically jerking her around?"

Robin's voice remained calm and gruff. "We don't have answers right now, Superboy, only half-truths and suspicions. Circumstantial evidence. Telling Tek now could jeopardize her only chance to learn the real truth. And I know you wouldn't do that to her," he added, casting his masked eyes sidelong.

Cyborg's fist trembled as it engulfed the end of his armrest. Metal groaned and plastic crackled under his grip. "No," he growled, bathing Robin in a baleful glare.

"Good," Robin said. "We play it my way for now. Anything else?"

"Yeah," Cyborg said. His voice rose into a snarl. "What the hell is Titans East?"

Robin stared coolly through the forward viewport, keeping them on course with a light touch. Compared with Superboy's embarrassment, Robin remained the picture of calm beneath Cyborg's glare. "That seems self-explanatory at this point," he said.

"Running out on us wasn't bad enough?" snapped Cyborg. "You had to go ahead and build a little replacement team full of sidekicks?"

"Hey!" Superboy exclaimed indignantly. "Not a sidekick!"

With his maddening calm, Robin retorted, "You seem to have filled out your roster just fine with pregnant teens, coma patients, schizophrenics, and murderers."

Bushido lifted a finger in pointed objection. "Alleged murderer," he said.

Cyborg twisted in his seat. The straps of his restraint harness creaked dangerously as he swung his ire upon the rear of the cabin. "Clear out. Now," he ordered in a growl.

Glancing between the two Titan leaders, Superboy hurried out of his harness. "Hey, Bushido," he said with forced cheer. "You wanna see some other part of the jet that isn't this one right now?"

"Desperately," Bushido deadpanned, and ducked under his harness.

The extraneous pair slipped through the hatch and into the rear compartment. As the hatch sealed behind him, Superboy cast a last look back into the cockpit. His vanishing worry surprised Cyborg, because the look was aimed at the back of Robin's head.

Cyborg settled back into his seat. His gaze drifted toward the pilot seat, and the specter sitting in it. In every discernable way, the person at the jet's controls looked like Robin. The muted colors of his new uniform, the short cut replacing his spiked hair, and the harsh angle of his new mask couldn't hide the resemblance.

But beneath the cosmetic differences, Cyborg saw a far more jarring change. The edges of Robin's blank eyes drew taut beneath his laden brow. The chill in his voice left frost behind Cyborg's eardrum. A wall sat around Robin, a parapet he carried with him that no one could scale. It wasn't the intensity with which he had pursued Slade, or the unstoppable rage brought out in him by the alien parasite. This Robin was a ghost of the Robin in Cyborg's memory, and a chilling one at that.

The anger in Cyborg waned. In a husk of his former volume, Cyborg asked, "Why didn't you come home?"

Robin didn't turn. He didn't blink. "There was no reason to," he said.

"No reason?" echoed Cyborg, astonished. "We fell apart, man. We almost lost the city. We almost lost each other! Starfire still…" He crushed shut his eye. "We needed you," he said, fighting himself at every word he spoke.

"You didn't," Robin said, eyes still locked ahead on the rolling clouds. "The fact that you're even here proves it. You never needed me. You never will."

Cyborg frowned. "But these new guys do? Or were you looking to trade up for better Titans?" Pain leaked into Cyborg's voice, a slip for which he cursed himself. He clamped his mouth shut to prevent another slip. More than anything, he wanted to stay angry at Robin.

But as Robin answered, Cyborg's anger gave way once more to remorse. "Let's get something straight. I didn't choose to be here. You don't want me here. But right now, I am here, and I'm the only one with any clue about what's going on," Robin said, and turned at last to face Cyborg. "If you want to save Tek, you need to get over it and do what I say until we get the job done."

Cyborg watched him turn back in silence. The cockpit rang with the aftermath of Robin's hollow words, which vanished into the undercurrent whine of the jet's engines.

"You should have come home," Cyborg said to the viewport.

Somber once more, Robin muttered, "There was nothing left."

"…to come home to?" Cyborg asked with a bitter glance.

Robin didn't answer. "We have to get Tek into the city at all costs. After that, everything depends on her," he said.

Cyborg leaned into his seat. His thoughts drifted backward, through the hatch and into the rear cabin, where he had last seen Tek several hours ago. If what Robin and Oracle had theorized came true, Tek would be walking into her own living hell. And that assumed that the Justice League didn't shoot them out of the sky first. Whether or not Tek could survive the experience remained to be seen.

* * *

Tek curled over her knees on the seat of the chemical toilet. Were it slightly roomier, the jet's lavatory could have doubled as a coffin. The cramped little chamber bottled her soft, stuttering whimpers, letting her stew in their echo. Tears cut her face into sopping thirds before dripping down to soak her legs.

Everything was wrong. Everything was gone. The life she had waited for to come back to her would never come, because it had never been real. She wasn't a person. She was a gun, one that the Justice League wanted locked up, one that had nearly gotten her friends hurt.

No. She didn't have friends. People had friends. Guns had marksmen, people who aimed the gun. Robin had only accepted her to the Titans to control her. He kept her close to keep her trigger from being pulled. Now he was back to do it again.

Cyborg, Bushido, they didn't understand. They couldn't be her friend, because there was nothing to befriend. They lied to themselves as she had to herself, thinking she was real. Or they lied to her to continue what Robin had started. To control her.

Tek bit her lip to stifle her sob. The Outsiders had hunted her down as though she were an item in a scavenger hunt. Metamorpho had toted her like luggage, knowing just how to stifle the dangerous parts of her. Everyone out there wanted her, coveted her, for what she was. And even if by some miracle she evaded the League, she would spend the rest of her existence running and hiding.

She could never go home. She had no home. People had homes. She was a gun, just waiting for someone to draw and fire her until she ran empty.

The lavatory hatch slid aside. The doorway framed Raven, who staggered forward. Half a step in, the sorceress saw Tek and jerked back, folding her cloak around her. "Oh. Sorry," Raven said, dipping her head into the shadow of her hood. "I, uh, need to…go. Could you…?"

Bitter resentment welled up in Tek, pushing a fresh flow of tears from her eyes. She looked up over her knees, scowling at the intrusion. "Go away," she croaked.

"Believe me, I wish I could," Raven said. Her cloak fluttered as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "But I've got a fetus pounding on my bladder. Things are about to get serious."

Tek did not move. She drew from her belt a small, plastic vial, and popped its cap with her thumb. "Why don't you just teleport me off the toilet?" she rasped. "You could even poof me up to the Watchtower. Then this whole mess would be done."

Raven's restless shifting stopped. Her eyes shrank into twilight slivers that flashed inside her hood. "I'm glad to see you're trading some of that sniveling for anger," she said carefully. "But you need to rethink your target. Quickly."

The vial in her hand rattled as Tek lurched to her feet. "You're unreliable, inexperienced, overpowered, and you're out of control. You're not one of us," Tek said with a sneer.

"Excuse me?" Raven said icily.

"You told me that," Tek shoot back in kind. "Down in the cavern under the Tower. I did everything I could to make you like me, but you always hated me. Did you know back then? Did you look inside me and see this?"

"I—"

"Did you know?" Tek screamed. Pills spilled from her vial as her cry wracked her body. The tiny white motes clattered at her feet, surrounding her, shining in the fluorescence.

Raven glanced aside to something unseen on the other side of the door frame. A subtle shake of her head rebuffed someone outside. Then she turned back to Tek and said, "No."

Tek searched Raven's hood in skepticism. The angry lines in Tek's face sagged. Seconds later, her body did the same, collapsing back onto the toilet. The fight brewing in her chest escaped with a long sob.

She glanced down at the few pills remaining in the bottom of her vial. They danced noisily as her hand shook. "Just teleport me out there," she murmured. "Send me to the League. Dump me in the ocean. I'm sick of this."

She raised the vial to her mouth and tilted it back. Her eyes closed, anticipating the haze she would swallow. Then her lips touched something startlingly cold. She jerked the vial back and found a cap of soul-self covering it.

Raven lowered her hand, letting her eyes and the soul-cap fade. "Enough," she said loud enough for only Tek to hear. "Stop being dramatic."

"You—"

"What I said about you back then was absolutely true," Raven told her. "And so is this: I wouldn't be here if I thought you were still that person."

Tek trembled. "You…"

Leaning forward, Raven said, "You aren't who you were. You aren't a liability. You're a Titan. And no one gets to take you just because of what you might be."

Tek's lip curled. Her eyes fell to the pills waiting for her on the floor. "I'm a weapon," she murmured.

"I'm a monster," Raven said. "Learn to cope."

A long moment passed. Tek listened to the pills' insistence. Then she asked her feet, "How?"

Raven's face softened. "Trust your friends," she said, "even when you can't trust yourself. They're good people. They won't let you hurt anyone any more than they'll let anyone hurt you. I know." Raven's voice fell to a murmur. "I'm one of them."

Urgency tore through Raven's comforting expression. She gripped the doorframe, digging her nails into its plastic. "But all of that is forfeit if you don't let me use the toilet in the next forty-five seconds." She crossed one leg in front of the other. "Please. I think he's hugging it."

Tek almost smiled. The delusive gesture left her face quickly, as did Tek herself. Raven sidled around her, shoving her out with a bump, and then sealed the hatch. Ousted and red-eyed, Tek wiped her face on the back of her hand and faced the rest of the cabin.

The two teams of Titans sat on opposite benches in a cabin that looked hauntingly familiar to that of the Icarus. A space remained open on either side of Beast Boy, who made no effort to disguise his stare, unlike the others. He patted the one that Raven hadn't been using, and did not break her gaze until she started moving to take the seat.

The Teen Titans' bench radiated suspicion and misery, with Beast Boy's smile being the only exception. The sinewy muscle beneath his uniform bunched with a tension that didn't reach his face. Starfire poised herself nearest to the jet's external hatch, coiled, her gaze planted in the deck. Bushido sat at a polite distance with his sheath resting across his lap.

Titans East, by comparison, ran the gamut between stoicism and affability. Impulse and Superboy filled the latter role with smiles and pleasant chitchat. Wonder Girl lurked at the other end, her arms folded and her chin dipped. Caught in the middle, Speedy and Aqualad maintained a mutual, uncertain silence.

"—and the time hole closed up permanently. I moved in with Max, and the rest is future-history," Impulse said. He sat in a perpetual state of unrest, fidgeting his legs, his shoulders, his hands, and his head. The bright eyes behind his goggles bounced from face to face above a beaming smile.

Wonder Girl made a show of checking her bracer. "For future reference, Impulse, the question 'where are you from' shouldn't take half an hour to answer."

A snicker rolled down her bench, and then crossed over to Beast Boy. Bushido, however, nodded sagely to the embarrassed speedster. "The story of one's origin should be a grand tale, something to reflect the scale of one's character," he said.

Beast Boy nodded earnestly. "Like me. I got bit by a green monkey," he said.

Without missing a beat, Bushido continued, "There are, of course, exceptions."

The jet lurched beneath them, leaning everyone toward the rear of the cabin. A muffled crash resounded from within the lavatory, drowned out by the sharpening thrum of the engines. As the acceleration evened out, the lavatory opened, and a disheveled Raven emerged in a tangle of her cloak.

"What happened?" she demanded.

Her answer emerged from the hissing cockpit hatch. Robin marched into the cabin, his cape billowing behind the force of his gait. His eyes blazed a path between the benches on the bulkheads, refusing to meet any of the Titans' questioning looks.

"Speedy," Robin clipped, "take the stick."

The red archer stood a half-second before the rest of his team could. "What's going on? I thought we were at full throttle already."

The edge of Robin's cape brushed Starfire's knee, jolting her from her stupor. She jerked her legs back as though she had been burned. Her hands grasped the edge of the bench, its metal frame bunching between her fingers.

"We were at full throttle. Now we're past full," Robin said without slowing. "There's a League Javelin coming up fast behind us. They'll be within weapons range in minutes. I'm taking the Redwing out to buy you enough time to land in Jump City."

"You're gonna stop them with a hockey player?" Beast Boy and Impulse asked at the same time. They exchanged shocked looks, grinned, and harmonized, "Dude! Awesome!"

At the cabin's rear, Robin bent and grasped a ring on the deck. He lifted a round hatch, which opened with a hiss of equalizing pressure. As he sat and swung his boots into the open hatch, he said, "Get to the landing coordinates at all cost. I'll be right behind you."

Superboy shouldered his way to the hatch. "You'll need backup. Cassie and I can—"

"No." Robin spared him a single, chilling look. "Do your job."

He disappeared down the hatch, sealing it behind him from the inside. The Titans left behind stared at the hatch, save for Speedy, who darted into the cockpit to take the controls. A minute later, hydraulics whined under their feet. The mechanical sounds culminated in a _whump_ that shook the deck.

Beast Boy ran to the exterior airlock, craning his gaze through the double pane to see past their contrail. His eyes cut the darkness to find a sight that brought a whistle to his lips. "That is unbearably awesome. I want a green one. With racing stripes," he decided.

Tek stared through the bulkhead, trying to picture the predatory Javelin bearing upon them. Both teams of Titans settled back on the benches, milling in her peripheral vision. She didn't need to look at them to feel their worry.

Yet when she did look at them, they plastered encouraging smiles over their worry, as though such a situation were routine. Even Raven managed a nod, though the tension in her body radiated through her cloak. Starfire remained near-catatonic.

Jump City. Robin had said they were landing in Jump City. Tek had spent every moment since leaving the island locked in the lavatory, or in self pity. Why were they returning home. Was there somewhere else she could hide? Did Robin have a plan for keeping her away from the League?

She left the bench, working her way up the deck. Turbulence made her legs and courage wobble, but she steeled both, and pushed through to the cockpit. Her tears waylaid, she thrust herself into a kind of morbid curiosity.

Red lights screamed across the jet's control panel. Speedy tried to assuage them, flipping switches to redirect the jet's resources. He gripped the controls tight, trying to clench the tremor out of his voice. "If the League catches up, we're gonna be a cloud of bad memories and twisted metal," he muttered.

Cyborg maintained a mountainous cool. Ahead, a shore of twinkling lights crept toward them, peering through the clouds rolling under the jet's nose. "If you wanted a day at the beach, you should have stayed and hung out with the Outsiders," he grunted. "Real Titans can handle the pressure." He glanced back as Tek strapped in. The corner of his mouth rose in a silent gesture.

Speedy's mask quirked. "You guys were the ones who made me a Titan, remember?"

"You know what I mean," said Cyborg. "We made you an honorary of 'our' team. Now you and Garth are cruising with Robin and a bunch of young Justice League wannabes, jetting around in this Faux-carus. Hell, I bet that pint-sized little Bat-Mite even built you a Tower, too. Didn't he?"

"It's…more like a lair," Speedy admitted.

Cyborg grunted. "Being a Titan is more than running around and shouting 'Go!' Robin had no right—"

"Robin got out-voted," Wonder Girl said. She leaned into the open cockpit, bracing herself on either side of the hatch. Her classical features puckered with annoyance. "He almost quit over the issue."

Her revelation sucked the argument from Cyborg's mouth. His jaw hung as he swiveled in his seat. "What? Why?" he demanded.

Wonder Girl pierced his ironic indignation with a look. "I don't know. Maybe he thought like you. That 'real' Titans lived in Jump City, and fought Doctor Light, and played in your little clubhouse, and that everybody else was just pretending or an 'honorary.' I do know that he busted his ass helping us set up a base and a network that alerted us to your trouble, and he got us the jet your tin butt is riding in right now. And he was willing to walk away from it all until we told him flat out that we would be 'Titans East' with or without him."

She looked down at Tek, who stared in quiet awe from her seat. "I don't know you," Tek said to her. She shook her head and tapped her temple. "I mean, I 'know' you. That's what this is all about. But you don't know me. You don't owe me anything. Why do all this because of me?"

Wonder Girl bowed her head. Her deep breath made Tek think that the question weighed on Wonder Girl more than the adopted Amazon wanted to admit. "When someone puts her neck on the line for everybody, and then gets hounded because of it, she deserves some backup," she told Tek.

Cyborg said, "But why—"

"Because you beat an army all on your own," Wonder Girl said. "Because you rallied a city together after one of the worst domestic attacks in American history. You set up a working relationship with your city. And every time some two-bit wannabe god and psychopath rears up, no matter how much crap you guys take, you just won't go down."

Speedy looked over, taking his eyes off the protestation of the control board to catch Cyborg's eye. "The Justice League was supposed to bring everybody together and put us all on the same side of the fight. Now they're ducking American nukes and pounding on their own numbers," he said. "Call me crazy, but that's not why I put on the quiver and throw myself in front of machine guns."

Folding her arms, Wonder Girl nodded. "We wanted to talk to you about it first. We were going to get squared away before we came to you, so you'd take us seriously. But when the League came after you…"

Wonder Girl looked up, her eyes sharp and clear. "There's more of us cropping up every year. People like us who want to do the right thing. Some of us have ties to the League. Most of us are on our own. But we all need something to believe in." Lifting her chin in defiance, she said to Cyborg, "I believe in you. I want to be a Titan."

Speechlessness consumed the cockpit. Cyborg found himself unable to do or say anything in response to Wonder Girl's declaration. Wonder Girl, her defiance spent, slowly deflated as she traded her pride for uncertainty. Tek simply teared in humbled silence. Then she turned back to the viewport, and grew worried. "Should the city be coming at us that fast?" she asked.

Speedy's gaze shot back to his controls, and to the twinkling lights that loomed outside of the viewport. "Oh, crap," he muttered, and yanked back on the yoke and the throttle. The jet lurched in reply, forcing Wonder Girl to grasp the hatch again or risk burying her face in instrumentation.

His hometown sprawled beneath them, Cyborg forced his mind back to the matter at hand. "Do you think Robin slowed them down long enough?"

"We'll know in a minute," Speedy said between frantic adjustments. "If he didn't, someone should be planting a laser up our aft any second now."

* * *

A sleek shape cut through the night sky, riding on curved, sickle wings that wrapped around its narrow body. Its crimson skin shone black under the moon. Its engine spat a bright, rippling heat that carried it just shy of sonic speeds away from the running East Wing. An angular canopy crouched atop the fighter jet, glaring into the darkness.

Robin gripped the controls of his Redwing and flicked his gaze back and forth between the radar screen and the sky outside. Flight stick in one hand, throttle in the other, he pushed the tiny jet to its limits. Despite the engine's howl, the cockpit felt tranquil. Solitude settled over Robin, a comfortable cloak under which he considered his sparse options.

The Redwing was small. It had to be in order to dock in the East Wing's concealed underbelly bay. It boasted a small armament, a short operational range, and a subsonic top speed. Any League Javelin bested the Redwing in every respect, save for atmospheric maneuverability. The Javelin chasing the Titans could shrug off Robin's missiles, blow him out of the sky, or simply outrun him, or even all three at once.

Static crackled in his headset. At the edge of the radar display, a sizeable blip crawled forward, appearing slow only because of the sheer distance the screen represented. "_Unidentified aircraft, this is Javelin Zero-Six,_" his headset said in an indistinct voice. "_Please alter your course and accompany us to the following landing zone._"

A set of coordinates appeared in his HUD. Robin ignored them and watched the radar. The Javelin blip drew ever closer to his center dot. Inside of a minute, they would be nose to nose.

He felt a prickle of intuition run down his spine. The radio crackled again. "_Robin? Robin, this is Superman._"

Robin's hand drifted toward a heavy, lead-lined pouch on his utility belt. He shook off the reflexive move and grasped the throttle once more. Superman could see him as clearly as if they sat together, regardless of distance or night. He was undoubtedly being watched at that very moment.

"_You need to stop this, Robin. You and your friends need to come with us. We can straighten this mess out, but you have to cooperate,_" Superman said.

Robin would get just one pass. The Javelin wouldn't slow down to deal with his Redwing, Superman's pleas notwithstanding. They would pursue the real prize, the East Wing. Robin knew he would do the same in their position.

"_We've worked together before. You know me, Robin,_" Superman insisted. "_Just like I know you. I know your heart is in the right place, but I need you to trust me right now. I need your help._"

Nothing in the Redwing's ordinance would slow Superman long enough. But if Superman was flying in a Javelin, not under his own power, it meant he had someone else with him. There was someone else in that Javelin who couldn't fly.

"_Robin—_"

Robin shut off the radio with an impatient flick. Trusting his instruments, he ruddered the Redwing to port. The Javelin blip on his monitor drew closer, faster, and straighter. As the Javelin began to correct its course, trying to avoid the head-to-head pass, Robin tapped his stick, keeping them centered in his HUD.

The Redwing and the Javelin flew nose to nose with only a handful of miles between them. Running lights twinkled on the horizon, distinguishing themselves from stars with their steady pulse. As the lights closed upon him, Robin concentrated on the space between them, filling their blackness with the radical outline of the League's iconic craft. The flat, arrowhead Javelin took shape first in his mind, and then between the lights.

Robin jerked back on the stick, slamming himself down into his seat in gravity's chokehold. Just as quickly, he shoved the stick back down and into his left knee.

The Redwing followed his stick with a cacophony of straining fuselage and screaming thrust. Collision warnings howled in the cockpit as it rose above the Javelin's path and then dove back into it, trailing its sickle wing beneath it.

The Javelin's pilot must have believed Robin meant to abandon their game of chicken. Instead, both jets shrieked as the Redwing's wing cleaved into the top of the Javelin's thruster assembly, carving a deep scar all down the back half of the Javelin.

Smoke and fire bled from the long scar, robbing the Javelin of its propulsion. The larger craft shuddered as it dipped toward Jump Bay, leaving a charred contrail behind it.

But Robin didn't see the Javelin's damage. The impact sheared the wing from the Redwing. Its death knell of rending metal deafened Robin to the howling klaxon of his controls. The sky around him grasped his jet and spun it mercilessly, pinning Robin to the side of his cockpit. Smoke and sparks spilled out from the controls' housing.

Gasping at the noxious heat, Robin fought the dark edges clenching around his vision. His Redwing careened toward a spiraling, reflective expanse. His last conscious thought came as gratitude that, when he died, no one would be hurt this time. Then the darkness won, and ate him whole.

* * *

"Hey," Impulse said, standing at the bottom of the egress ramp, "I think your big T fell over." He twisted his head to one side, staring at Titans Compound lengthwise as the rest of the Titans barreled down the ramp.

Jump City's night life stopped in shock at the alien aircraft landed in the middle of Third Street. Cars sat in rows that stretched back for blocks, with less savvy drivers too far away to see leaning on their horns in a vain attempt to move traffic. The sparse citizenry stood on the sidewalk and stared at the double helping of Titans emerging from the craft. Murmurs and shouts and honks peppered the Titans as they took to the street.

Cyborg left the ramp at a jog, leading Tek by the hand. She moved under her own power, and with a bloodshot determination in her eyes, but he held on anyway. Feeling her squeeze his hand in return gave him a small measure of confidence, which he pressed into his words. "Everybody keep moving. It's just a few blocks from here."

"Are we gonna make it?" Superboy asked, floating after Cyborg. He kept looking over his shoulder, as if he expected the Javelin to appear over their heads without warning and disgorge half the Justice League at once.

Raven shot past Superboy in a flutter of cold cloak. "Why don't you look? You're the one with super vision," she said.

A sly smile quirked his lips. "Hey, if I had supervision, I wouldn't—ow!" His joke broke at the sharp sting of Wonder Girl's palm crossing the back of his head.

"Nobody thinks that's funny. Go see if Robin's okay," Wonder Girl snapped.

Rubbing his scalp, Superboy climbed the air above the streets and turned his gaze westward. His glacial eyes glistened with intense scrutiny of the horizon. Then his eyes snapped open. "He wouldn't…" he muttered.

A muffled, distant crack answered Superboy. The sound stopped the Titans dead in the street and twisted their worry into morbid fear. Those jaded denizens lining the sidewalks around them jumped at the sound. They all recognized the sound of a far-off explosion, as well as its implications. Panic sunk its claws amongst them, arising as gasps and cries.

"He's crashing!" Superboy cried, cutting through distance and obstruction with his gaze to watch Robin's jet spiral out of the sky. "About ten miles from the Bay. Bart, he needs a flier—"

"Right." Impulse didn't bother listening to the rest. He grabbed the nearest flying Titan in reach that had been running with him at the rear of the pack. They vanished together in a blur of red and gold before she could utter more than an "eep!" His speed carried them to the waterfront and beyond in the space of a heartbeat.

Cyborg watched Impulse's after-image fade. For half a second, he felt relief. Then he realized who Impulse had grabbed, and shuddered as an icicle stabbed the inside of his stomach. "Did he just grab Starfire?" he asked.

"It's okay," said Speedy, jogging ahead. "Impulse can run on water when he's fast enough. They'll get there in time." When he saw Cyborg still rooted to the street, he and the rest of Titans East stopped to look back. "What?"

Stark realization creased half of Cyborg's face. He shared it with his team in a grave look. "Has anyone seen Starfire fly since she got back?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," Beast Boy scoffed. He combed his memory for instances of Starfire flying. "I mean, of course she… She must have…" His scoff dawned into horror as he looked around, and saw his reaction plastered on the others' faces. "Hasn't she?" he asked.

* * *

The city flashed around Starfire. She linked her arms around Impulse's neck and held on. Every ounce of her strength rose into her shoulders, trying to keep them in their sockets. The wind blinded her and roared in her ears, forcing her head to once side. Through her teary squint she watched the smear of skyscrapers vanish from around them. A panorama of black water loomed before them, and sprayed behind Impulse's feet.

Two bright fires crossed the sky. The larger blaze glided toward the ocean, more or less stable. The smaller blaze spiraled out to sea with a trail of wreckage raining in its wake. Impulse bent his head and raced the second blaze. "That's him. Hang on!" he shouted.

Starfire could hardly do otherwise. She fluttered behind Impulse as they crested the ocean's waves. In seconds, the spiraling fire fell behind them, outpaced by the speedster. Starfire tried to keep the fire in sight over her shoulder. Her stomach churned, but not for the speed.

"Hang on! I'll give you a boost!" shouted Impulse.

He turned them around, kicking a crescent wave into the ocean. They faced the Redwing head-to-nose, with less than a thousand feet between them. Starfire wanted to yell, and try and explain the flaw in Impulse's plan, but the wind choked her.

Then it was too late. Impulse ramped up a wave taller than him and leapt from its crest at incredible speed. His legs wheeled as he dragged them into the air. He grabbed Starfire's arms and heaved her upward, pushing himself well under the Redwing's path in the process. The motion sent him tumbling end over end toward the black backdrop of the ocean, where he disappeared with a fading wail.

Crossing her arms to shield her face, Starfire hurtled at the dying Redwing. Its port wing was an empty socket that bled smoke. Fire wrapped around the fuselage with the force of its spin. A silhouette lurked somewhere under the canopy, lit by intermittent sparks.

She would miss the jet. She realized it the instant Impulse released her. The shoat had been one in a million to begin with. That Impulse had gotten her so close was its own miracle. But she could see the Redwing's nose drift on a path that would take it just out of reach above her.

Starfire watched the fiery fighter roll. She stared through its smoky shroud, watching for a glimpse of the silhouette under the canopy. Her stomach churned harder. Her body burned, as though the fire reached out to grasp her. It scorched through her veins, and crushed her from the inside out.

She reached back for the fire. Her eyes blazed in challenge. She had to reach it. She would reach it. She focused everything into the tips of her fingers, willing them to bridge the distance. Her entire world became the cockpit, her hands, and the damning space separating them. The jet's trajectory defied her, but she wouldn't allow it. She would reach the canopy, no matter what.

An instant later, her hands found the edge of the Redwing's cockpit. The dying jet yanked her along for the ride. Sky and sea spun together in an indistinguishable blur. Superheated metal bit her skin, pulling a scream from behind her teeth. She bit back with a grasp that mashed the canopy's frame between her fingers. The canopy wrenched free with a tug. She tossed it aside, leaving it to tumble away, and peered into the cockpit.

Robin lay against one side of his controls. The restraint harness clutched him to his seat. Two white slivers hung in his mask. His head lolled, and his chest rose raggedly with shallow breath.

Starfire snapped his restraints with a gesture and pulled him out. Her arms wrapped around him as she kicked off from the burning jet. The Redwing spun away, leaving her to tumble free with Robin pressed against her.

He felt so frail. He weighed nothing in her arms, a collection of Kevlar and ropy muscle that would break if she held him too hard. Soot clung to his skin, which bore speckled burns from the Redwing's controls. But beneath the clinging smoke, her nose found his familiar scent. She recognized the curve of his face beneath his heavy, angular mask. Her eyes fell through white lenses to find his.

Her heart stopped. Then it burst.

They hit the water. Starfire curled around Robin, taking the brunt of the ocean's punch on her back. The impact knocked her breathless, and cold brine rushed into her chest to fill the absence. She shuddered and exhaled a bubbling gasp of seawater, and forced her legs to kick. The airless depths didn't bother her as much as they frightened her. While she didn't need to breathe, Robin did.

She broke through the reflective sheen of the surface, gasping and coughing as she dragged Robin's head above the water. Treading for the both of them, she watched Robin bob with the rhythm of the waves. Three inches from her face, he was little more than a shadow. The night swallowed his features.

Trembling, she focused her fear into her eyes, and lit him with a soft green glow. The pale warmth revealed his slacken features, which shocked opened at her glow. White circles snapped open in his face. His grimace split for a wracking, brine-vomiting cough. His whole body shook and splashed as he emptied his chest.

Gradually, his breathing slowed, his bearings returned, and his panicked struggles ended. He floated there, safe in Starfire's grasp. Without their coughing, in the absence of crashing jets and crackling fires, the two teenagers found themselves trapped in a deafening silence. Jump City twinkled on the horizon, as distant as the stars overhead for all it mattered to them. In the moonlight, all they could see of one another was the glistening of their eyes.

Starfire's heart pounded, threatening to explode from her breast. She stared into the emptiness of Robin's eyes, desperate for any sign of what lay behind them. She had waited for, prayed for, dreaded and avoided this moment between them. Her body burned with a need she had been fighting since the moment she had awoken on the island. So close, achingly close, it took everything Starfire had to keep that need buried now that he had awakened it.

Robin stared. His chin tilted into the water. For an eternity of seconds, he bobbed with her in silence. When at last he spoke, his words maintained a maddening calm. "Where's the rest of your uniform?" he asked.

A fleet streak of red and white descended upon the pair, plucking them out of the ocean. They jerked into Impulse's grasp and held on, trailing behind him across the bay. In four dizzying seconds, the trio stood at the west end of Titans Compound and the parked East Wing, wind-blown and bewildered.

Both teams of Titans waited for them, anxious and annoyed in varying degrees. Cyborg reached out to catch Starfire as she staggered from Impulse's grasp. She straightened and stiffened at his offer, brushing aside his hand.

Robin slapped Impulse's hand off his wrist. "What are you still doing here?" he demanded. The instant trip had wreaked havoc on his inner ear, making his first steps crooked. He straightened his feet into an angry stomp leveled at his Titans East. "I told you to keep moving!"

"Um," Speedy said, spreading his confusion in a look shared with the others. "You were crashing."

"Yeah. You're welcome," Impulse groaned as he knocked his head to loose the water in his ear.

"That didn't matter," Robin barked, earning him a gallery of bitter looks. "I gave you a head start, and you wasted it. And now the League is…"

His voice trailed off as his eyes trailed upward. One by one, the other Titans followed his gaze above the skyline. Their dissent crumbled into a horror they could all share. Tek forgot her anger and doubt, lost for anything except wordless terror. She shrank behind Cyborg's arm.

Superman descended from the sky. His cape streamed behind his purposeful flight. Two figures hung in his grasp, one red, and one green. Behind him, the sleeker outline of Wonder Woman soared in formation, with a massive, shirtless king swinging from her grasp around his hooked prosthesis. All five League members glared at the Titans as if to trap the children with sheer disapproval.

The three carried Leaguers dropped to the street. Superman and Wonder Woman landed, joining Flash, Green Arrow, and Aquaman in barring the Titans' way. Several of the Titans stepped back from the imposing line. Lumps were swallowed, and looks were exchanged, in a moment of poignant hesitation. Around the heroes, curious crowds of citizenry quelled, awestruck by the assemblage of the League and the Titans, and confused by the tension between the two teams.

Green Arrow nocked his bow with a blunted, cylinder-headed arrow. He kept the weapon lowered. A grim expression curled in his goatee. "Kids," he said calmly, "we need to have a talk."

**To Be Continued**

* * *

Thank you to everyone who wrote in. It meant a great deal to me. You guys put up with a lot of scheduling bullshit, for which I can never express enough gratitude.

I'm feeling marginally better, both about myself and about my writing. That means I'm back. It also means I've launched a project I've been meaning to launch for the last year, but didn't have the courage to start. If anything ever comes of such a project, you'll be among the first to know, and the first I thank.

Unfortunately, this other project is eating up a lot of my time and focus. This means I'm cutting my original update schedule in half. Which, at this point, will probably mean more chapters on average for you anyway, so…yay! From now on, look for new chapters of Teen Titans: Adaptation on the second and fourth Friday of each month.

I know, I know. "Boo, Nine." I said the same thing. But there is good news: As of the end of this chapter, there are only ten chapters left in Adaptation. We're nearing the grand finale, and I think you're all going to get a kick out of it. Also, the chapters have been getting longer, so hopefully the extra time will be reflected in the quantity and quality of story I put out.

And for those of you who believe that, I've got a Brooklyn Bridge to sell you.

Anyway, please stick around, keep writing in, definitely keep reading, and know just how lucky I feel to have readers like you. For whatever it's worth, I'm back, and I missed you guys. Let's see what the Titans can really do, shall we?

Cheers to all.


	31. Lost Little Girl: Broken Whole

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Lost Little Girl**: _Broken Whole_

"We are so dead," Speedy murmured.

The Justice League loomed before both teams of Titans, separated by less than a dozen yards. Jump City's night life had come to a screeching halt, and now lined the sidewalks to watch the inexplicable confrontation. Likewise, the Titans stood frozen, made stony with a mixture of surprise and trepidation.

Superman stood at the fore, his arms crossed, his brow heavy with disapproval. Wonder Woman hovered by his elbow in a similar state. Flash and Green Arrow flanked the pair, their jovial demeanors struck grim by the Titans' defiance. And Aquaman stood alone several lengths away from the others, a smoldering rage bottled in his eyes.

"You're coming with us. All of you," Wonder Woman said. Her voice remained even, but no one could mistake the steel that braced her words. "You've endangered enough lives with this childish game."

For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved. Tek felt her knees tremble at Wonder Woman's command. She locked her legs and tightened her grip on Cyborg's arm, readying herself for the inevitable.

This was it. Game over. Tek knew her friends had done their best to protect her. But they had finally been caught. Of course they had been caught. The League had scientists and detectives and mages. They could find anyone, let alone Tek. She only wished she could look as brave as the other Titans, instead of the trembling wreck she knew herself to be.

Tek wanted to look to Wonder Girl. She wanted to tell her that it was okay, that she understood. Tek's memory flashed upon looking at the red-armored blonde—Cassandra Sandsmark, adopted Amazon, a girl who had become a hero out of admiration for Wonder Woman. Facing down her personal hero like this must have been awful for Wonder Girl. Tek wished she could tell Wonder Girl how much she appreciated that she had tried.

Wonder Girl crossed her arms. "How do you say 'screw you' in Greek?" she called to Wonder Woman.

Outrage clenched the Amazon princess's jaw. Superman spoke in her stead. "Don't make this any more difficult than you already have," he said. "We understand your concerns, and we respect them. But the bottom line is, Tek has to come with us. You all do now."

Superboy glanced to Wonder Girl. A smile flitted across his strong jaw. Then he stepped forward, joining her with arms folded. "How do you say 'screw you' in Kryptonian?" he asked.

An impatient breath rustled Aquaman's beard. "This is ludicrous," he snapped. Locking eyes with Aqualad, he said, "Garth, stop wasting my time with this foolishness. Grab the girl and bring her here. Now."

Hesitant, Aqualad glanced back at his teammates. When his gaze fell upon Tek, the hesitation faded from his demeanor. He squared his shoulders, drew a deep breath, and spoke a crisp, brusque mouthful of a musical language that the others could not understand. Evidently, Aquaman could, and is darkening expression served as a perfect translator.

One by one, the Titans of both teams stepped forward, forming a tight knot that blocked Tek from the League's sight. "Tek is a Teen Titan. She's not going anywhere she doesn't want to go. Anybody trying to make her is in for a world of hurt. End of discussion," said Cyborg.

"This is crazy! We don't want to hurt her!" Flash said, throwing his hands in an exasperated gesture. "We just need to know if she's a cape-killing Frankenstein, is all."

Green Arrow watched the tight Titan knot draw closer still, focusing their glare upon Flash. The archer uttered sidelong to Flash, "It's a wonder you're not a diplomat, you know?" Louder, he called to the Titans, "Look, kids, I appreciate some good old fashioned protest more than anybody. But let's all calm down before someone does something really stupid. The girl won't be hurt. You have my word."

Speedy nocked an arrow to match the one sitting in his mentor's bow. "Sorry, GA," he called back. "You know the old rule: don't trust anyone over thirty."

"I taught you that rule," Green Arrow grumbled, stricken.

Cyborg kept his shoulder squared against the League through sheer force of will alone. Being a Metropolis boy at heart, Cyborg had grown up idolizing Superman. Staring down the S-shield felt like a living nightmare. It took all his concentration to maintain composure, so much so that he almost missed Robin's graveyard whisper at his back.

"Buy me as much time as you can," the Teen Wonder said. "I'll take Tek ahead."

Across the gap, Superman's eyes narrowed. His hearing must have caught Robin's whisper. Cyborg's eye twitched. "You gotta be kidding. What the hell do you expect me to do?" Cyborg hissed back.

"Win."

The reply surprised Cyborg. He thought the curt comment would be brimming with sarcasm. But Robin said it with such confidence, as though trusted Cyborg above all others to beat a gang of living legends.

Cyborg tilted his brow forward, cementing his scowl. "Good luck," he whispered to Robin. Then, raising his voice, he said, "Break on my signal."

Superman stepped forward, reaching out to them. "Don't—!"

Cyborg's arm mechamorphed into his sonic cannon. He lowered it at the League, summoning a blue glow to its aperture. The nervous excitement of his friends charged the air around him, filling him with an electrifying thrill. Without looking, he knew they would follow him.

Charging forward, he stared his childhood idol in the eye, and bellowed, "Titans Together!"

* * *

The world quaked behind Tek. She stumbled, and would have fallen if Robin's ironclad grip didn't keep her moving through sheer momentum. His cape flapped in her face as he dragged her down the street at a dead run.

"Robin, wait!" she gasped, her voice lost in the thunder crashing at their backs.

"No time," Robin shot back. "Keep up."

A bright flash made their shadows into long, black giants on the pavement ahead of them. The flash faded with another tremor. Overhead, a crushed Volkswagen Beetle spiraled through the air, its horn bleating. The car arced and crushed another parked car on the side of the road as they ran past.

Tek tried to look back. Another flash drove spots into her eyes. Robin's pull kept her moving while she blinked her vision clear. "We can't just leave them!" she insisted.

Robin yanked her around a corner. She edged around the building just in time to avoid another tumbling car wreck. Crashing wind from the near miss staggered Tek to one side and peppered her with sharp debris. She yelped at a hot sting in her side. Touching her hand to the pain, she felt sticky warmth. Her fingers came back red.

He didn't stop. "Beating the League won't stop them. As long as you're a potential threat, they'll never leave you alone. They'll keep coming until they turn you off or lock you up," he told her.

Her chest burned on the inside and bled through her skin suit, each step hurting worse than the last. Clutching her side, Tek cried, "Then where are we going?"

"To get the one thing that will stop them," said Robin. "The truth."

They ran for three more blocks. Tek listened to the cacophony in the distance, wincing at each crack and flash that chased them around corners. A dozen questions bubbled in her lips, welling up behind twice as many protests, but her throat burned just in keeping up with Robin.

At last, Robin pulled her to a stop against the darkened window front of an office building's lobby. She leaned against the glass, running gallons of air through her lungs in great, gulping breaths. Robin kept his ragged breath through his nose while he swept the street with a scowl. The downtown office block had nothing to attract a night life. Not even a parked car remained on the street.

Robin kept Tek behind one shoulder and continued to watch the street. "What first set off the League was the discovery of a series of labs and information," Robin explained. "Evidence uncovered suggested your powers were manufactured by the Brain in a mobile operation in Europe. You were supposedly a hero-killing stealth bomb, with the trigger for sale to the highest bidder."

"We knew all that," Tek wheezed. "So why—"

"Because none of that makes sense," Robin said. "You appeared here, without memories, without programming, six thousand miles away from where you should have been. The League's either kidding themselves, or they're using this Brain story as an excuse."

"For what?"

Robin snapped his head around. A birdarang appeared in his hand, cocked to fly at a shadow across the street. He stared into the shadow, searching for the movement he thought he had seen.

"To figure out who put you together. To figure out who else has it in for them, and for us." He lowered his birdarang slowly, relaxing his posture. "Someone put together a sophisticated, incredibly powerful battle suit on American soil. In this city. And they put it in a teenage girl programmed with enough knowledge to tear apart the entire hero community."

Tek's wafer patience crumbled into hysteria. "Who? Why are you playing these games with me? This is my life! My! Life!" she screamed, and beat him on the shoulder. "Who did this to me?"

Robin grasped her arms as a blue-white light began spilling from her back. His empty glare filled her eyes, a steady, stony field of white that stared her down. The ratcheting sound of her armor faltered, barely out of her back as she heaved on the brink of sobbing. Slowly, the metal components climbed back into her, and the portal vanished.

"I don't know. But you do," Robin said.

Tek's panicked breath caught in her throat. "What?"

Still holding her by the arms, Robin drew her close. His mask came within inches of her wide eyes, until she could look nowhere but at him. "Some part of you remembers what happened. It's the part of you that overwhelms you, that tries to protect you when you're in danger. It's the part of you that you can't open when you're under hypnosis."

"How did you…? You looked at my therapy session notes?" she cried.

"The League has video of you," Robin insisted. "You were walking with Cyborg, and you panicked when you saw a certain place. An alley. You weren't in danger, but you triggered your suit as though something were threatening you."

"I…I've freaked out before," Tek said.

"Never without a reason," said Robin.

He led her along the sidewalk, grasping her arm to the point of pain. Tek winced and followed, more confused than ever, until she saw the edge of the building they approached. A narrow gap separated the two office buildings, down which an unremarkable slab of concrete stretched. Robin dragged her into full view of the alley and planted her numb feet on its cusp.

Tek's heart stopped in the face of the unremarkable alley. It loomed around her, its brick jaws aching to snap shut and devour her. Shadows on the concrete stretched into tongues that lashed out at her feet. She felt the alley's breath roll over her, a fetid, stale stink that roared in her ears.

That roar… It was the very same sound, the first sound, that had crossed the inside of her ears. It rattled her mind, its claws rending her sense of reason into shreds. It sucked the bones out of her legs and left a glacier in her chest. She had caged it with drugs, but had never conquered it, had never escaped it.

Her beast stood before her now with a body of its own, a yawning chasm between buildings. It roared, and then inhaled, seeking to suck her back into its maw and consume her.

Tek's scream disappeared into the flashing emergence of her armor. The grille crawled over her mouth, making her cry reverberate as it became a snarl. Mechanical strength swallowed her frail, trembling body to stand against the roar of the alley with a roar in kind. The white plates of her forearms split, producing doubled cannons, the glow of which bathed the alley in the promise of white-hot death.

"Tek!" Robin barked. He jumped in front of her, placing himself in the path of her left cannon. Its barrels made the badge on his tunic glow hot. His paltry armor would not stop a single bolt from her repeating cannons. "Tek, snap out of it. You have to open the door!"

The enormous fist of her armor began to rattle. "Get away!" Tek screamed, but not at Robin.

He reached out to the fist. It dwarfed his upper body, let alone his black glove. The heat from the cannon make his sleeve smolder. "There's a reason you' try to open doors in alleys in your dreams," he said, looking into her visored scowl. "It isn't a metaphor. It's here and now. The answer to everything you've ever wondered is here in this alley. You have to find that door and open it."

"N-No!" Tek cried.

"You weren't made in a lab in Europe. It happened right here. It's here, Tek," he insisted. "Find the door. Find it, and open it."

A black blade whirled over Robin's shoulder and struck Tek in the chest. Its tip wedged into a joint in her armor. The blade quivered, its distinctive winged shape erupting with white sparks as a micro-battery buried inside it dumped its charge into the armor. Tek screamed and stiffened, her armor made statuesque by the electric charge.

Robin recognized the batarang at once. He didn't bother to look behind him. Instead, Robin lunged at Tek, reaching to knock the batarang off Tek's chest. His glove brushed the tip of the batarang when he felt a hand close around his shoulder.

The city spun around Robin as the grasp threw him back from Tek. Robin pulled his limbs out from his tangled cape and landed on all fours, skidding halfway down the alley's length. He looked up and froze at the sight of a glare as empty as his own.

"Hello, Tim," Batman said. Shrouded in his cape, the Dark Knight stood between Robin and Tek, deaf to the armored girl's stuttered cries.

Robin rose to his feet. His scalloped cape fell across his shoulders, mirroring Batman. Dark hair fell into his face as he lowered his brow. "Bruce," he said.

"Walk away."

Batman growled the command as he had a thousand others since bringing Tim Drake into his world. The tone possessed the power to reduce Tim to a student, one eager to learn and desperate to please, and conditioned to obey. But Tim Drake wasn't in the alley. And he had never been terribly obedient in the first place.

Robin's cape burst open. A birdarang shot from his hand, its metal silhouette slicing the air above Batman, who ducked reflexively. With a solid _thunk_, the birdarang buried its tail into the same joint as the electric batarang.

Batman glanced back, and then composed himself beneath his cape once more. "You missed," he said with a tinge of admonishment.

"You wish," Robin retorted.

His birdarang trilled once, and then detonated with a concussive blast that threw Tek off her feet. The electric batarang shattered into shrapnel that dug into the surrounding masonry. Batman caught the edge of the shockwave between his shoulder blades. He grunted, sprawling onto one knee.

Robin rushed forward. "Tek, get up!" he bellowed, and snapped his boot at Batman's cowl.

Black gloves closed around Robin's boot. The Teen Wonder lost his footing as Batman yanked his leg. Swinging around, Batman slammed Robin bodily into the alley wall, and then let him drop to the ground. Stars faded from Robin's eyes as he felt those same strong gloves clasp his wrist. The familiar clink of cuffs jangled behind him.

Tek's massive, armored hand swept Batman aside from behind before he could secure either of Robin's wrists. Her backhand knocked him against the opposite wall, bouncing him hard to the filthy, littered concrete. Tek offered her hand to Robin, who climbed its segmented plates until he reached his feet.

"I'll keep him busy," Robin told her, masking his groan within a growl. "Find the door. Get inside."

"Inside what?" Tek asked with tinny despair.

"You're the only one who knows," Robin told her. "Find the door. Find out. Remember your dreams, and concentrate."

Shaky breath whistled through Tek's grille. Behind her visor, she closed her eyes, banishing the alley from her sight and bringing it into her mind. She dredged her memories of sessions with Doctor Hayden, her hypnotherapist. As she concentrated on the alley, she felt a primal fear emerge from the deepest parts of her, where her monster lurked.

She couldn't explain the fear. She didn't want to explain it. The fear kept her safe from something horrible inside of her. She had always known there was something wrong about her. In this alley lay the answers to that last mystery, to the awful truth about her.

She realized with a start that she didn't want the truth. Not really. She just wanted to be normal and happy with her friends. Right now, they were fighting to give her an answer she didn't even want. People who didn't even know her were fighting for her right to know. It made her want to sob with laughter.

If she didn't honor the sacrifices they had made so willingly, she knew she wouldn't deserve their friendship. For them, and for her unwilling self, she focused. Pushing herself through the fear, Tek concentrated everything she had into remembering her visions of the horrible alley around her.

Tek walked slowly across the alley. Her eyes remained shut. Memory guided her, following a map of her hypnotized journeys. She felt something hard hit her fingers, and heard the dumpster ring against the touch of her suit. Crushing its edge, she flung the dumpster aside, little caring for where it crashed. The door laid in the wall behind it, cold, featureless steel in her mind's eye. If it was anywhere, it was there. She knew it.

Tek opened her eyes. Her HUD displayed a blank brick wall. She glanced back at Robin, who nodded once. With another shaky gasp, Tek drove her massive fist into the wall.

Brick and mortar splintered under her punch. She leaned into it, expecting her arm to plunge into the building's side. Instead, her arm jammed against a flat surface behind the wall. When she pulled her arm back, she found gray, dented metal peering out through the gap in the masonry. She dug her fingers into the gap, clawing the brick façade off of the metal. It took her only a few seconds to tear apart the wall, revealing a riveted metal plug the size of a narrow doorway.

She stared at the dented metal. Her armor's fingers scraped its surface. It was real. Her dreams were real after all. Robin had been right.

A batarang spun at her head, making Tek flinch. Robin batted it aside with a birdarang in hand. Sparks flew from the contact. He drew his hand back, turning to face the risen Batman. "Tek, go!" Robin snapped, and put himself at her back.

Tek hesitated a second, her gaze pulled between Robin and Batman. Her heart twisted into knots. Then she grasped the edge of the metal plug and pulled. The metal peeled aside with a screech, unveiling a long, dark descent lined with stairs. She sidled through the narrow opening, scraping her helmet as she hurried down into the unknown.

Batman watched her vanish over the shoulder of his former sidekick. The unveiled plug gave him pause, his only outward sign of surprise. "You don't know what's down there," he said.

"For certain? No," Robin said. "But I'm pretty sure it's something she needs to see."

"Even if it makes her lose control again? You know how dangerous she can be. I have to stop her." Taking a step, Batman shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. His cape slid back over his shoulders. "You know you can't stop me, Tim."

A slow, dangerous smile crawled across Robin's mouth. His knuckles cracked. "You're right. I'm not good enough to stop you," he said.

When Batman took another step, Robin sprang at him with a flying kick. Batman sidestepped the clumsy attack, only to discover it as a feint. Robin twisted in midair and planted a foot in Batman's shoulder. The Dark Knight felt a rib give way under Robin's heel. He grunted, and twisted with the blow. His own foot came up at the end of his spin to catch the airborne Titan squarely in the stomach.

Robin doubled around the kick, feeling the air leave his lungs. As he fell back, the birdarang he held gouged a painful line down Batman's leg, eliciting a rare shout of pain from his old mentor. Both combatants staggered apart, bleeding and breathing hard.

Wiping a red line from his chin, Robin wheezed, "But I'm just good enough to make you work for it. If you want her, you'll have to get serious and take me down for real." His fists rose and his stance shifted. He stood between Batman and the unhidden door with a cold, berserker smile. "Let's go."

* * *

Beast Boy didn't know where to start, what to do, or if he could even be of help. The pavement beneath him shook in an intermittent rhythm. Long cracks widened in the street, growing wider with each rumble. All around him, the citizens of Jump City ran in screaming terror for the insane battle that threatened to break their city in two.

He watched two distinctive blurs speed in a lopsided circle around him, one scarlet, the other red and white. Beast Boy's shape changed as fast as he could turn his head, trying to follow the super-speed fight. He became a rabbit, then a falcon, and then a cheetah, and still felt like living molasses compared to Flash and Impulse. The worsening terrain did not seem to slow either of them at all, and Beast Boy doubted his octopus's tentacles could trip Flash up any worse.

"Why do you always have to ruin everything, Wally?" he heard Impulse say from the circling blur.

"Me? You got yourself into this," Flash retorted. Their speed made the conversation feel like surround-sound, driving Beast Boy's acute ears mad as he tried to pin down the source.

"You think you know what's best for everybody," Impulse shot back. His voice cracked with deep resentment. "You think wearing that bolt on your chest makes you know better than anybody else. But you don't."

"No, I don't," Flash said. "I don't know everything. That's Batman's job. But I do know that you and your little friends need to chill and listen to the adults."

"That's rich coming from you," said Impulse.

Beast Boy heard an _oof_, and the blurs disappeared. He saw Impulse sprawled on the ground, the speedster's face twisted in pain. Flash stood over Impluse, reaching down to clasp his arms. Snarling, Beast Boy leapt into the air and donned the shape of a lion. By the time his hind claws left the ground, both speedsters had vanished into their respective blurs, resuming their contest without thought to Beast Boy.

"Your robot girlfriend is dangerous!" Flash insisted. "Do you know how many times she's flipped out? Okay, I don't have an exact number, but once is too many. People could get hurt!"

"You don't care about people! All you care about is whether or not they measure up to you. You think that, just because Barry's gone, you're the new gold standard for super heroes!" Impulse cried. "Well, I got news for you, Wally. You aren't Barry!"

A sharp crack of knuckle on bone drew Beast Boy across the street. He watched Impulse manifest from his blur, reeling through the air with his chin twisted ahead of him. Flash appeared an instant later. The scarlet speedster's fist hung extended through the path of Impulse's tumble.

Impulse struck the street and bounced to rest. He rolled over, clutching his face in surprise. His goggled stare shot up to the unusually somber Flash, who rubbed his fist, and said, "Neither are you. And if you ever want to be like Barry, you have a lot of growing up to do."

Startled, hurt, Impluse scrambled backwards on his hands and feet. He turned over and vanished from the battlefield, leaving behind a gust of wind and the memory of his haunted expression. Beast Boy thought to shout, but the speedster was long gone.

Flash shook his head with a sigh. Then, brightening, he turned his attention to Beast Boy. "So, how about you, Zoonatic? You gonna give me a fight?"

Beast Boy faltered back a step. He couldn't come up with a single animal fast enough to touch Flash. Then a thought occurred to him, one of velocity versus mass, and his outlook brightened.

The cracks in the street groaned, growing wider beneath the swift spread of Beast Boy's clawed feet. He sprouted up, towering over the Flash, three times the Leaguer's height as he stooped over. His skin glistened with leathery scales. His mouth split its stalagmite teeth for a roar that shook the world.

Flash stared up at the green tyrannosaurus. The tyrannosaurus stared back, and then basted Flash in another wet, deafening roar. Flash streaked out from between the dinosaur's descending jaws. "Little help?" he bellowed, hoping someone from his side could hear him over the tyrannosaurus's tremulous footsteps.

Wonder Woman heard him, but had no chance to help. Her hands were laced with Wonder Girl's locked tight in a contest of strength. The Amazonian pair spiraled into the sky, each trying to gain leverage over the other.

"Stop fighting us, Cassie," Wonder Woman said. Though she pleaded with her young protégé, there remained a steady edge to her voice.

Wonder Girl felt herself slipping. Inch by inch, the contest went to Wonder Woman, who forced Wonder Girl's hands back against her wrists. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Wonder Girl growled, "Sing something else, already. We're only fighting because of you."

Wonder Woman's brow arched with surprise. "I'm only here because 'you' are here," she said.

"Don't stay on my account." Wonder Girl jerked her hands free, unbalancing Wonder Woman for a split second. The young Amazon launched her fist across Wonder Woman's face, driving the fight higher. Emboldened, Wonder Girl dove up to press her advantage.

She caught both of Wonder Woman's boots in her chest. The blow emptied her, and drove her three stories down. The street cratered beneath her with a bone-jarring blast of dust and noise, which billowed up to curtain her from the world.

Seconds later, Wonder Girl crawled up from the crater, covered in tiny cuts, and sucking in great breaths that scraped her lungs raw with the particulate debris. Her ego seethed. Then gold flashed around her, and she felt a narrow pressure draw around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

Wonder Woman pulled on the lasso wrapped around her forearm, and dragged Wonder Girl off her feet. "Stand down," she commanded.

So intent were both Amazons that they didn't notice the golden figure in lilac until she leapt between them. Starfire landed ahead of Wonder Girl with a glowing glare aimed at the Leaguer. Her hands closed around the lasso's line. In one sudden motion, she jerked the line with all her strength.

Wonder Woman gasped as her lasso yanked her into Starfire's waiting fist. The blow struck Wonder Woman's stomach and rocketed her through a nearby fire hydrant, leaving a geyser behind the trench she dug into the street until she slammed headfirst into the wheel well of a parked bus.

"No," Starfire uttered belatedly. She turned and tugged the noose of the lasso off of Wonder Girl. The blonde Titan stepped free from the lasso with an appreciative nod.

Green Arrow hurtled the trench left in Wonder Woman's wake. He would have stopped to help her up, just for the sheer novelty of it, but other concerns kept him running. Those sharp, fletched concerns whizzed past him, sticking in the ground he left behind. He nocked his bow with a trio of arrows to return some of that concern back at Speedy.

A concussive arrow burst behind Speedy, peppering him with debris. He drew another arrow as he charged across the battlefield. Living gods shook the earth beneath him while his adoptive father shot at him. "Man, this sucks," he grumbled.

Bushido ran next to him. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade. The crisp lines of his keikogi flowed around the arrows whizzing between him and Speedy. "Facing one's master is never an easy task, I know," he said between explosions.

"It's not that," Speedy said. "We've got two teams of super-dupers in the battle to end all battles…" He ducked, and then stumbled over the burst from another concussive arrow.

The concussion blast punched Bushido in the back. He staggered, and shook his head. "…and?" he asked, calm to a fault.

Smirking, Speedy said, "And here I am, stuck partnered with Asian Robin."

His smirk vanished as Bushido's blade flashed before him. A bisected arrow clattered to the ground behind him. Speedy hadn't seen or heard the katana leave its sheath, and hardly caught Bushido sheathing it again.

"It could be much worse," Bushido assured him. "You could be stuck with Poor Man's Robin."

Speedy missed nocking his next shot as he glanced over in surprise. Then a guffaw split his face.

Another arrow burst between them. Both Titans tried to separate, but this arrow filled the air with an elastic, white adhesive that spread too quickly for them to escape. It snared each of them by the forearm, and then retracted, binding them together at the wrist.

Struggling against the adhesive, Speedy grimaced, and said, "Well, this is a—"

"If you say 'sticky situation,' I will kill you," Bushido promised him plainly. "And then I will win this fight dragging your corpse behind me."

Their feet lost the ground as Superboy made a meteoric landing behind them. Seconds later, Superboy arose from the crater his body had punched in the street. Chips of pavement rained from his shoulders and clung to his hair. He wiped his scowl clear and turned it back to the sky.

The red banner of Superman's cape hung as a dot on the distant sky. A fluttering blue dot clashed against Superman's red. Black shapes stretched from the blue dot, terrible talons that batted Superman across the sky. Superman batted back, shattering the talons with his fists.

Superboy launched himself from the crater. He climbed the stars and saw Superman bash through the last of Raven's soul-self, wracking her with psychic backlash. The young clone slammed into Superman, driving him back from the sorceress. Thunder cracked on the end of Superboy's fists as he struck the shield on Superman's chest.

Superman staggered through the air. "Conner, don't!" he shouted.

"Blame yourself, Clark," Superboy snapped. "You stuck me in Kansas to teach me about right and wrong. You wanted me to have friends. You—uh-oh…"

Superboy's fist slapped into Superman's open hand. The large Kryptonian cradled Superboy's punch, trapping it in his immutable grasp. Superboy's outrage dissolved into shock. He tried to jerk his hand out of Superman's without success. "Oh, hell," Superboy muttered.

Superman spun at incredible speed, turning them both into a blur. He let go without warning, throwing Superboy back toward the ground. His young clone slammed through the roof of an office building, vanishing under a curtain of crumbling debris. Dust plumed from the open wound in the building's roof. The impact rang a few seconds later, delayed by the distance.

Ethereal pincers closed around Superman from behind. The magical energy trapped his arms, its grasp strong enough to make his bones creak. Superman groaned under the pressure. He summoned a burst of strength, straining against the pincers. A web of cracks jumped into the impossible blackness around him.

The pincers shattered, and Superman's arms burst free in a hail of vanishing shards. He heard a gasp behind him and saw Raven shrink from the breaking soul-self. The wind grasped her cloak, throwing it taut over her, catching her arms as she attempted to weave new protection. Superman shot toward her through the vapors of her soul-self.

Raven flinched, abandoning her spellcraft. Her arms crossed before her stricken face. The motion threw her cloak back over her shoulders, where it flapped in the bitter wind. The prominent curve of her belly hung beneath her arms. "No!" she cried. "My baby!"

Superman stopped dead in the air. His eyes bugged at her stomach. His fist fell limp, sapped by a choking guilt. "I…" he said, baffled. "I didn't—"

A shaft of soul-self hammered Superman in the chin with the force of a runaway locomotive. Superman sailed off the end of the black shaft, trailing a guttural cry high into the air.

The soul-shaft dissipated from Raven's hands at her satisfied smirk. She caught sight of Superboy flying back to join her. His uniform sported fresh rips, but his face beamed. "That was awesome," he crowed.

She flipped her cloak back into place. "It also gets me free doughnuts at the bakery," she said.

Far below, Cyborg watched the pair disappear after Superman, feeling shades of pride well in his chest. Then he lowered his attention back to the fight at hand. He didn't envy Raven for daring to stand toe-to-toe with the Man of Steel, but neither did he feel especially lucky at the moment.

Aquaman rushed at him, bearing down with his shoulder lowered and his hook held at the ready. With a furious bellow, he drove into Cyborg, pushing the Titan back a full twenty yards with the force of his rush. Asphalt crumbled in twin furrows beneath Cyborg's soles before he angled his toes forward and dug them both to a halt.

The hook angled down at Cyborg. He caught its shaft and held on. It took the sum total of Cyborg's arm to keep the barbed tip mere inches from his eye. His other hand caught Aquaman's fist. The inexorable strength of the Atlantean king drove Cyborg to one knee.

"Yield, Tin Man. You've lost," Aquaman spat. "This juvenile rebellion is over."

Cyborg felt his servos deform under the strain of holding Aquaman. He said through gritted teeth, "Check the scoreboard, Charlie Tuna. We've still got a few plays to run."

A jet of water struck Aquaman under the ribs. The horizontal geyser batted Aquaman to one side, tearing him from Cyborg's grasp while it soaked the Titan. Cyborg flinched toward the source of the jet, and saw Aqualad hunched over the broken cap of a fire hydrant.

Aqualad stomped on the fire hydrant, pinching its broken cap until the geyser ceased. The water in the air swirled around him, caught in his mystic grasp. His eyes flashed as he stalked to meet his prone mentor. "You should have stayed in the sea, Arthur. These people don't put too much stock in Atlantean lords. I guess we have that in common too."

Water sprayed as Aquaman whipped his glare to meet Aqualad's. He rose smoothly and stood against both Titans' approach. Storm clouds gathered over his eyes. "How dare you, Garth? You owe me everything! I took you in when you had nothing, and—"

"—and forgot me in an instant once you got your 'real' son," Aqualad retorted. The water around him swirled faster. "I know where I stand with you, Arthur. You taught me everything, including how to stand against injustice. You have no one to blame but yourself."

Aquaman tensed himself for another jet of water. He focused himself on resisting the strange hydrokinesis of his former protégé. And in doing so, he left himself open to the pulsing blue beam of sound that enveloped his head. Shrieking pressure drilled into his ears, bringing him to his knees. His scream disappeared into the shrill pitch of the sonic beam.

Cyborg cut power to his cannon, lifting it back. He smirked as Aqualad gathered the living pool around him into a hammer blow, which he loosed on Aquaman. The Leaguer tumbled back in a narrow tidal wave that slammed him into the side of a building, leaving cracks in the masonry.

Droplets of water flicked off of Aqualad's shaking hands. He clenched them into fists and hid his adrenal quiver with a quip. "Nice tune. I haven't heard that one."

"Head in the game," Cyborg told him with a grim smile. Already, Aquaman had pulled his feet back beneath him, and turned to the Titans with murder in his eyes. "We've gotta give Tek more time, or all of this will be for nothing."

* * *

Tek descended into a living hell on precise stairs that curved into a tenebrous unknown. Her armor barely fit between the walls. Her feet were too large to fit on any one step, but she abhorred the notion of retracting her armor. So she tiptoed sideways, hating herself every step downward.

The trim of her armor emitted a soft glow, and painted the walls and stairs blue. She watched the curve of the stairwell with dogged intensity, knowing that at any moment something horrible would come roaring up at her. The churning of her stomach told her so. She wanted to throw up, but she had nothing left inside of her.

The curve of the stairwell ended in a dark expanse. Tek froze, and gouged a line into the wall with her startled jerk. Her legs begged her to loose them back up the stairs. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against her worst nightmares brought to life, and forced her feet down the last few steps. Hands guiding her, she touched down on the floor, and then forced one eye open.

Emptiness loomed before her in a tight, small, wholly unremarkable space. The ceiling hung less than a foot above her helmet, and sported empty sockets where lighting might once have been. Four straight, short walls met at square angles, with more empty sockets between them. No remnant of what the room had been remained, not even dust. The floors sat empty, smooth, and immaculate.

Tek stared through her HUD. She took a tentative step into the room, waiting for her mind to explode with answers. Her lungs burned until she released them with a sigh. As far as she could see, she had discovered one more room in which she had never been. "Robin was wrong," she whispered. "He was wrong about this place."

She walked into the room, turning her gaze across the blue-lit walls. Try though she did, she couldn't force any kind of recognition out of her brain. As she approached the room's center, she resolved herself to turn around and go back. Up on the surface, she could turn herself in to the League, and beg them to let her friends go.

_Bubbles rushed up, shrouding her from the glare of the glass cylinder. It curved around her naked body, barely big enough to encompass her. She bobbed in the suspension fluid. Her first gasp tugged at the mask over her face as it rubbed her lungs raw._

Tek fell to her knees at the room's center. A sob burst through her grille. She clawed at the glass cylinder, only to realize that it wasn't there. But a firm notion told her that the cylinder should have been there, holding her. It had always been there before.

Pain drilled into Tek's temples. She reached up to grasp her head, her fingers scraping her helmet. "Okay…that was weird," she gasped tightly. "I'd better—"

_The world outside her cylinder was a bright smear of colors. She saw lights and shapes lurking outside, inundating her with attention. Tubes snaking down her throat made her gag. When she thrashed, a heavy presence at the small of her back kept her in place._

_"She's waking up," one of the shapes said in alarm, her voice thick through the liquid. "Tranqs, now! Blank her memory with the node!"_

Terrible pain hammered Tek's mind. The phantom shocks brought her to her knees. She screamed and clawed at her head as an entire world forced its way back into her.

* * *

Starbolts _spanged_ off Wonder Woman's bracers. The bolts ricocheted into two parked cars, smelting both into flaming ruins in a flash. Wonder Woman charged on with her bracers lifted to bat aside each bolt Starfire flung her way.

Starfire snuffed her last bolt in a fist. She swung as Wonder Woman descended upon her, hoping to slip past the Amazon's defense. Her blow grazed the spangle hung from Wonder Woman's ear before a jackhammer punch folded Starfire in half. Starfire bowed around Wonder Woman's fist, feeling her insides curl around knuckles.

Wonder Woman lifted her arms for a double-blow that would flatten Starfire. Then she saw a flash of gold above her, and felt her wrists slam together in the noose of a lasso. The lasso yanked her back, nearly tipping her. She stumbled and turned, and saw Wonder Girl at the end of the golden line.

Grim humor lit Wonder Woman's features. "If you wanted the truth, Cassie, all you had to do was ask," she said.

Wonder Girl sneered, her split lip dribbling blood. "My lasso's different, Di," she spat.

Anger flashed in the girl's eyes. That anger sank deep into her glare, traveling through her down to her grasp. It manifested in her lasso as crackling, snapping, arcing power, and consumed the lasso in an instant.

Wonder Woman arched as the gods' lightning poured through her. She screamed, convulsing, and fell to her knees. Smoke arose from beneath her tiara as her hair smoldered against the metal.

Starfire's boot sank through the thick folds of Wonder Woman's hair and struck bone. The vicious kick shoved Wonder Woman face-first into the street. Then the Leaguer disappeared from under Starfire's heel as Wonder Girl jerked the lasso, flinging Wonder Woman high and far across the battlefield.

Both Titans were bowled over by a red blur. The blur crisscrossed the street, dragging behind it a fierce vortex that snatched up debris. Chunks of stray automobile, loose masonry, excavated pavement, and other garbage followed behind the blur, which circled until it had amassed an enormous following of the debris.

Condensing its debris-vortex in a tight funnel, the blur shot straight for the legs of the green tyrannosaurus that loomed over it. The dinosaur's teeth were too slow to catch the blur whipping between its feet. The long, tight train of debris following the blur wasn't so nimble, and crashed into the tyrannosaurus's legs, shattering its joint and throwing the limb out from under it.

The dinosaur roared as it fell and shrank. It struck the ground as Beast Boy again, who clutched his leg with a grimace. Before he could heal, the blur engulfed him. Great chunks of the raining debris fell around him, stacked by super-fast hands into a pile that swallowed Beast Boy up to his neck.

Beast Boy struggled under the pile as Flash stopped. The speedster brushed his dusty hands, and said, "This time, stay extinct."

A streak of gold slammed into Flash and threw him clear of the pile pinning Beast Boy. The streak swirled around Beast Boy, dismantling the pile in an instant. Then it stopped before him and bowed, becoming a familiar lanky teen dressed in bright yellow and branded with a red lightning bolt.

Beast Boy squinted at the boy. "Impulse?" he said.

The teen speedster ruffled his hair around the open edge of his cowl. "Not so much anymore."

"Impulse!" Flash scrambled to his feet and thrust a finger at his teen doppelganger. "What the hell do you think you're doing, wearing that? Stop fooling around!"

"I'm not Impulse anymore, Wally! And I'm done fooling around." He grasped Beast Boy's arm and hauled the shapeshifter to his feet. Sneering at Flash, he snapped, "You always thought I should be more like you. Well, now I'm gonna show you what a real Kid Flash looks like!"

Beast Boy felt the whole world fly behind him in a rush of speed. He shaped himself into a rattlesnake and wound around Kid Flash's wrist, desperately clinging as the young speedster turned them both into a blur. He hissed and rattled a wordless question that caught Kid Flash's attention.

"It's a boring story," Kid Flash said of his new uniform. "Listen, I've got an idea. Can you get smaller? Like, a lot smaller?"

While they circled the street, clashing with the blurred Flash, the bonded duo of Speedy and Bushido sought to close the gap separating them from Green Arrow. A fletched flurry flying around them made the process difficult at best.

Speedy tried yet again to return fire, and only succeeded in making Bushido stumble. "Damn it! I can't fire with all this dead weight on my drawing arm," he complained."

"Concentrate on getting close," Bushido insisted. "Your dead weight will take care of the rest."

The lithe swordsman dragged Speedy with sudden haste. Speedy staggered behind Bushido, drawn by his bound wrist. Their combined run closed upon Green Arrow, who could not backpedal fast enough or shoot true enough to hit the elusive pair.

"Hey, I'm not gonna let you just chop my—" Speedy protested, and then lost his voice in a jerked yelp.

Bushido pulled them both within arm's reach of Green Arrow. The emerald archer gaped, hesitating with his nocked stun arrow, which could incapacitate all three of them at such extreme proximity.

Seizing the second, Bushido leapt. Steel flashed in his hand, and Speedy dangled behind him, yelling. Bushido's sword swept the head off the archer's arrow, and then cleaved at his neck, forcing Green Arrow to duck or lose his head.

Green Arrow stumbled back from the sword's reach as Bushido and Speedy landed. "Hey! I was taking it easy before, but the gloves are off, kid," he snarled. His sympathy, deep as it was, ill suffered attempted decapitations. He reached back to grasp and nock a new arrow, one that would take the fight out of the two Titans.

His hand swept through empty air. Stumpy stalks teased his fingertips. Looking down, he saw the ground littered with dozens of fletched, notched ends, the tails of his arrows cleft from their shafts. Without them, his arsenal had been rendered nigh-unusable.

A polite smile creased Bushido's face. He sheathed his sword, and said, "Forgive the Freudian implications. Oh, and please surrender."

Speedy saw a dangerous anger flash in his mentor's face. "Uh-oh," he groaned, and tensed.

Leaping back, Green Arrow drew from his quiver a clipped arrow with a heavy head. He threw it at the Titans, and then rode the shockwave when its concussive payload detonated. The blunt, heatless explosion threw Speedy and Bushido back into the brick face of a building. Breath rushed from them both, giving Green Arrow the precious seconds he needed to grasp and drive an arrow deep into the brick between them.

Speedy barely kept hold of his bow as he gasped for air. The arm he shared with Bushido clung to the wall, pinned by the sharp arrow driven through the glue that held them together. He could barely hear himself above the ringing in his ears. Looking over, he saw that Bushido fared little better than he did.

"Star City archers don't quit, sword boy," Green Arrow told him as he drew two more stunted arrows and threw them at the Titans' feet. More adhesive burst from the arrows, sticking Speedy and Bushido in place. Green Arrow sagged, sighed, and then straightened imperiously. "Now stay put. I'm going to try to put a stop to this circus."

The world lolled in Speedy's eyes. He pulled his vision together and spied several shapes careening into each other high overhead. One was blue, and flitted. One was red, and would do him no good. But he recognized the third, casually dressed shape. "Conner!" he bellowed at the top of his empty lungs.

Superboy tumbled off the end of Superman's fist. The side of his face felt like oatmeal, and probably looked worse. His arms flailed as he righted himself in the air. Speedy's shout gave him pause as he glared down, letting Raven battle Superman alone.

"Switch!" Speedy yelled.

Superboy bit his lip. His stomach flipped at the sight of Superman tangling Raven in her own cloak. The long blue fabric mummified Raven in Superman's hands. He tucked her hood under her chin to rob her of sight, and then pushed her hard to force her out of the melee. Superboy's fists cracked with the need to prove himself against the original Man of Steel. He had so much left to prove to Superman, and to himself.

"Conner!"

Then he thought of Raven, trapped in her cloak, fighting the most powerful person on the planet for someone else. If she could put the Titans before herself, then so could Superboy. "Switch!" Superboy yelled back to Speedy as he dove.

Speedy abandoned his useless tug of war with the arrow embedded in the wall. He reached over and shoved his bow into Bushido's free hand. The swordsman took it with a start. "What do you—?" Bushido tried to ask.

Reaching back, Speedy pulled a golden arrow with black fletching from his quiver. "Shut up and hold that out at Superman as steady as you can," Speedy told him. "This is gonna be one for the books, if it works."

The shouted exchange had stopped Green Arrow in his tracks. He tilted his gaze upward, and then backpedaled at the sight of a red S-shield dropped down on him at alarming speed. Instinct pulled his hand back to his quiver, where he remembered his clipped arsenal. "Oh, hell," he groaned.

Superboy bowled shoulder-first into Green Arrow with the force of a small car collision. The body check threw Green Arrow off his feet, down the block, and into the hood of a parked pickup truck. Glass crunched as the windshield of the truck caught Green Arrow, cradling him into unconsciousness.

"Ollie!" Superman barked. He swooped upon Superboy, his fists cocked to pound his clone deep into the ground.

Speedy held the end of his arrow, half-aiming, half-praying. The bow's grip trembled in Bushido's hand. Three hundred pounds of pullback quivered between their outstretched arms. Closing one eye, Speedy did his best to sight along his arrow. His target flew just shy of bullet speed two hundred feet over his head. Holding his breath, he waited until the impossible shot felt right, and then let go.

The arrow burrowed into the sky and struck Superman squarely in his chest. Superman felt the impact, and then saw his world vanish into a green explosion. The green cloud pressed into his skin with pure agony, and scoured his lungs with his gasp, and immolated his eyes, clinging everywhere on his body. Painted in the painful cloud, Superman plummeted, and cratered the street with a primal scream.

"Now that," Speedy gasped, letting his arm drop, "was a green damn arrow for you."

Superboy landed before the pair. His heat vision focused into a fine edge that burned through the glue between Speedy and Bushido. While the pair separated, rubbing their respective wrists, Superboy arched his brow and said, "Kryptonite?"

"Don't give me that look," Speedy retorted. "Rampant paranoid isn't exclusive to Gotham jerks, and it just happened to save our bacon this time."

A loud groan turned all three Titans toward the crater in the street. They gaped in horror as Superman thrust himself to the crater's edge. Wisps of kryptonite smoke trailed from his chest. Pain knit his dark brows and weathered his face. He found all three of them, and froze them with a glowing scowl.

Ebony ether slammed down on Superman in a colossal shaft of force. The shaft struck like a bomb, nailing Superman back into the street. Pavement and sound exploded, pluming up around the shaft as a new crater formed from the first, deeper and larger than before, with Superman buried beneath it. As the dust settled, the shaft dissolved, leaving no trace behind.

The Titans shifted their horror to Raven, who descended to them with a cross look kept in her hood. She landed, straightening the clasp of her cloak. When she noticed their horror, she said, "I don't like people touching my clothes."

"Duly noted," Bushido deadpanned.

Just as Raven straightened her cloak, a scarlet wind blew it askew. The wind chased after Kid Flash, himself a blur of yellow and red. Both speedsters stirred the battlefield with pure speed. The rest of the fight happened around them in slow motion.

"Give it up, Bart!" Flash yelled. "I've been doing this for years. A quick wardrobe change isn't going to give you more experience."

The yellow blur rounded back on Flash faster than he could react. He felt a slap on the side of his head. His fist lashed out on reflex, and his knuckles caught Kid Flash underneath his nose. Kid Flash stumbled backwards, sprawling over the curb while Flash cradled his covered ear.

Blood trickled from Kid Flash's curled lip. "I deserve to wear this uniform more than anyone. It's my legacy too. My dad..." He trembled, but his glare never broke from Flash's.

Flash lowered his hand. "Your dad was a great man. You could be too. But being fast isn't enough."

Kid Flash scrambled to his feet. His sneer dribbled as he said, "Prove it," and vanished.

Rolling his eyes, Flash stepped back into a run. As he picked up speed, the world suddenly tilted hard, rolling to one side. Flash yelped and felt himself veer. The ground reared up and slammed into him, dragging him to a stop.

Groaning, he pulled his face off the pavement. His head swam, making his stomach jump up his throat. "Wh…What's wrong with me?" he wheezed.

Kid Flash appeared at his side, leaning on his knees. A split smile crossed his face. "You're right, Wally. Speed isn't enough. You need brains and friends. And right now, I've got friends in your brains," he said.

"Wh…" Flash tried to rise. The world rolled again, dropping onto his head. No matter which way he moved, he felt as though he would fall. His stomach won out, and burst from his mouth in a gout of bile.

"Well, one friend," Kid Flash said, and shrugged. "And actually, he's in your inner ear, multiplying into the worst infection you'll ever have. Try running now and you'll put yourself through a wall."

A maddening itch consumed the inner side of Flash's eardrum. As he lurched and clawed at his mask, he heard an infinite chorus of whispers arise, barely audible. "Wahoo!" his inner ear sang.

Kid Flash savored Flash's floundering for an endless second. Then he felt a shadow swallow the ground around him. He didn't look up, disappearing in a burst of speed before Cyborg crushed the ground on which he had stood.

Shards of sidewalk rattled as Cyborg sat up. A jagged line hung in the world before him. He groped at the line before he realized it was a crack in his optic implant. Groaning, he let his hand drop to the thick cable jutting from his chest, where Aquaman's hook had punched through his armor. Sparks popped from his chest wound in steady spurts.

At the other end of the cable, Aquaman struggled with the arms wrapped around his neck. Aqualad clung to his back, hammering Aquaman's head. The glancing blows kept Aquaman off-balance. "Your fists are buying trouble you can't afford, Garth," the Atlantean king snarled.

Staggering to his feet, Cyborg grasped the hook in his chest. "We'll just have to charge it, then," he shouted, and leveled a meaningful look at Aqualad.

Gasping, Aqualad flung himself off of Aquaman as Cyborg shoved the hook deeper into his components. Circuitry parted for the hook's barbed end, which Cyborg pushed through his primary power core. Cyborg's storehouse of energy burst from the core and leapt into the hook in an arcing explosion of lightning.

The power ran the length of Aquaman's cable in an instant, funneling itself into Aquaman's arm. Aquaman seized with a short cry, his body enveloped with bright, wracking pain. Then he and Cyborg both dimmed, smoldering with spent power. They fell in ominous synchronization and landed facedown on opposite sides of the street.

Aqualad rushed to Cyborg's side. He rolled him over and tore Aquaman's hook from Cyborg's chest, wincing at the spray of delicate electronics that came with it. "Cyborg? Cyborg!" Aqualad cried, and slapped Cyborg's unalloyed cheek.

A soft, electrical hum drifted out Cyborg's chest wound. His optical implant flickered back to life. His eye opened a second later, followed shortly by a strained smile. With Aqualad's help, he sat up and scraped a hand across his chest. "Backup power supplies. Hopefully, enough to get me through the fight," he grunted.

Aqualad hauled Cyborg to his feet with a dubious look, which he swept across the ruined street. Everywhere he looked, his friends and allies were locked in stalemate with the League. Superman was back on his feet, and keeping at least four of them occupied. Wonder Woman harried the teams' girls, while an inexplicably yellow-clad Impulse tried to wrestle Flash to the ground.

"We can't keep this up much longer," Aqualad insisted, slinging Cyborg's arm over his shoulders. "We have to come up with a real plan."

Already, Aquaman struggled to his feet, still smoking from Cyborg's trick. His hook retracted back toward his arm with the sound of rasping steel. Cyborg met the Atlantean's glare, and muttered to Aqualad, "We hold them here. Nobody quits. Nobody retreats. As long as I'm still—"

From the distance, above the roar of battle and through the ringing that haunted each hero's ears, there arose a terrible scream. It resonated, rattling windows, prickling in every square inch of skin within its reach. The scream echoed in each of them, a note born of pure, animal terror that stopped everyone in their tracks, pulling every gaze for miles around toward its source.

Cyborg shivered as he recognized the shrill voice buried in the scream. More than anything, he wanted to run to her side and slay the demons that could draw such fear out of her. He gritted his teeth, and willed his arm to become a cannon once again.

Sonic rage poured from his arm into Aquaman's chest, shoving the part-time Leaguer through the first three stories of a building across the street. "Nobody quits!" he shouted, loud enough for the rest of the Titans to hear him. "Not today! Not ever! Give them everything you've got! They wanted the Titans? **Give it to them!**"

His shoulders burst open with a spray of micro-rockets that razed everything in his way. Cyborg barreled forward, bleeding sparks, his face twisted into a fearsome mask.

* * *

_"—stronger and faster than anything you've ever seen,_" the smeared figure said. He lurked outside of her cylinder, a white specter in total control of her wet, cramped world.

She floated at the exact center of the room. She couldn't feel her armor anymore. It had been washed away in the flood of these hallucinations. When she reached out, she felt the smooth, cool curve of the clear glass containing her. The viscous solution around her smelled of saline even through her breather mask and feeding tube. As she cried, her sobs echoed back inside the mask, and her tears were lost in the solution.

It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. She was still in the empty chamber underground, still in her armor, still safe. But her eyes saw the blurry visage of people in white coats, and indistinct machinery of all sizes, and blinking screens, and blazing lights that hurt to look at. She looked anyway, and pressed her palms flat against the glass until her bare skin met with the other side of the container.

Something hard at the small of her back tapped the glass, blocking her bottom from touching the side. She reached back and felt a large growth there, something cold and metallic bulging from her spine.

"_We're just finalizing the implantation process now,_" the smeared figure explained to someone else. "_The whole process should take a few hours. After a week or two of acclimation, Project: Slayer should be ready for active duty_."

A new smear strode out of the white glare. She watched the swath of rich violet approach her. Its presence rang familiar in her, niggling at some forgotten part of her. She tilted her face toward the glass as far as her life support would allow, pressing her hands to its surface to frame the approaching smear.

Details emerged from the smear. The rich violet became a business suit and skirt, tailored to the stocky body it clothed. Its collar was capped by dark, serious features and a severe hairstyle that could have calibrated a level. Deep, cold eyes lurked in the woman's face, eyes that had been culled into a predator's scowl by years of unspeakable work. Even through the glass and the fluid, she could see that work haunting the woman's hard eyes.

The woman spoke in a crisp, businesslike monotone. _"Start with the tactical information and the obedience protocols. Save the memories and personality for last. Scrub everything else before the moment of 'birth.' I don't want another Project: Superman on our hands, people."_ She walked away from the tank, becoming a smear once more.

She watched the woman go. As she peeled away from the glass, she felt a warmth tingle at the metallic tumor in her back. Seconds later, that tingle ramped into an agony that seized her spine and shook her from the inside. She screamed into her mask, clawing at the curved glass around her. Her soft nails squeaked against the glass as pain lanced through the tumor and crawled up her spine to roost in her brain.

Faces whirled behind her eyes. Names, places, events, and ideas all formed together into a whirlwind that tore apart her waking mind. She saw capes and masks and spit curls, and immediately knew the people behind them, all without ever having met a single one of them.

More. The metal boil on her back fed her more, until she thought she would burst. She felt something inside of it, something behind the boil, aching for release. She realized that the metal on her back was no tumor. It was a cap, and it blocked another part of her, something the smears outside didn't want her to have yet. But it was part of her, it was her, and she needed it. It needed her.

Something arose amidst the whirlwind in her mind. She felt it snarl at the pain. Its voice rattled her from within, drowning out everything else. It knew her pain, her fear, and it would stand for neither. It roared both into submission. Then it took her arms and legs from her from the inside.

The creature in her thoughts commanded her to kick, to thrash against the glass, thumping the barrier. The smears outside didn't like that. They ran about, chattering long words to one another in worried voices.

The creature made her arms reach back. It made her hands into its claws, and tore at the metal on her back. Blood trickled into her saline world as the tumor's needles tore from her skin. The tumor dropped from her hands and sank to the bottom of her world, clunking against the floor of the cylinder.

Without the tumor to cap her, the rest of her was free. It leapt out of her back in a spray of blue-white light, and swallowed her whole, breaking her life support tubes with its alloyed tendrils. For the first time in her life, she became complete, and burst free from her world into a much larger one.

Glass and saline rushed from her shattering cage. She fell to the floor on massive feet. Droplets clung to the outside of her face, running down her new eyes. She turned and faced the smears, no longer smears, but men and women in long white coats wearing terror upon their faces.

She was whole, but not herself. The creature owned her. It roared in her thoughts, and then out her new mouth. The roar rang tinnily in her ears as the creature made her stalk the white coats.

Her hands rose of the creature's volition. Her new eyes watched the creature work through her. And as gouts of blood arose from her fists, and screams of terror wracked through her, she realized that the creature was no creature at all. Nothing alive could be so cruel. It was a monster inside of her. Her monster, saving her and damning her.

Tek screamed. The world dissolved around her again, becoming an unyielding blackness that shook with the force of her monster's roar. She reeled onto her feet, smashing into the wall. Her body tore a long scar down the length of the featureless concrete as she ran from the noise inside of her.

Something happened inside her armor. Smooth, seamless flaps opened along her back, revealing blue-white apertures that beat back the darkness. The apertures' glow intensified until it lifted Tek off her feet and threw her through the ceiling.

* * *

Blood poured over Robin's brow and into his one good eye. He wiped it clear with a ragged gasp, ignoring the sting of his other eye, which had swollen completely shut. Half his mask was gone, but the purple bruising served almost as well in its place.

He staggered back, nearly toppling down the stairwell he defended. Reaching out, he braced himself on either side of the gaping door. The belt at his waist had been torn away. It had run empty long ago anyway. Three minutes? Four? He had lost track.

"Wha…" He gagged on a mouthful of blood. A swift uppercut had made him bite through his cheek. He spat, and wiped his mouth, and then his eye again. "What's the matter, Bruce?" he rasped. "I thought I couldn't beat you."

Batman looked little better than he did, or so Robin hoped. A broad cut marred the edge of his cowl, where a gash in his cheek spread blood down his chin and into his uniform. Red trails ran from his nostrils and lip. He walked with a limp toward Robin, favoring his left side.

"You won't," Batman promised.

A black boot shot at Robin's kneecap. Robin twisted to one side, sliding up Batman's leg with short, fast steps. He chopped at Batman's shoulder, aiming for the clavicle. Such a break would slow even the Dark Knight considerably.

But his muscles felt thick and heavy. His hand couldn't chop as fast as he needed it to. Batman leaned back and caught Robin's arm. Sharp pressure to the elbow made Robin hiss and double over. He knelt down to save the joint, which Batman held above him in a painful lock.

Batman kept Robin's arm tensed just at the breaking point. One sharp gesture would maim the arm beyond use. He held, and said, "You're that sure."

"That sure of what?" Robin hissed through his teeth. He tried everything he could think of, but nothing he could do would slip him from Batman's grasp without the loss of his elbow. "That Tek isn't who you say she is? That this will work out in the end? No." Twisting his head, he shot Batman a pointed scowl. "I gave up on believing in anything a long time ago."

Scowling, Batman said, "Then why—"

"Trust," Robin gasped. "I trust Tek to become the person she wants to be. I trust the Titans' judgment. You don't trust anyone anymore. You can't trust anyone but yourself. You don't trust me now, and you never did. So break my arm. I trust them. I won't ever be like you."

Robin lashed out with his foot. The kick startled Batman, forcing him to act on reflex. He shoved through the joint locked in his hands, grinding bone and cartilage together into a noisy, cracking mess.

The world went white with pain. Toppling forward, Robin howled, barely catching himself against the concrete. His arm hung limp at his side, bowed at an unnatural angle. His scream shook Batman at the core, deep beneath the mask and the façade.

Another scream arose, drowning Robin's out. It came from the unhidden doorway, as the other screams had, but louder and more terrible than before. Both Batman and Robin staggered back from the sheer volume, forgetting their fight a moment.

The building looming next to them began to rumble. Its windows shattered, broken as their frames trembled with some force burrowing its way through the building's floors. Loose bricks tumbled free from the building, punching divots into the sidewalk below.

Batman watched the night sky flare at the explosive emergence of a figure from the building's roof. He squinted through the blue-white light, and recognized the outline of Tek's armor from his investigation. Nothing in his research had suggested she could fly, yet she soared now into the air, riding above the city on a blinding nimbus produced by her armor.

Next to him, Robin wheezed, clutching his bicep. The Teen Wonder worked his back against the far side of the alley until he stood tall, leaning against the wall for support. A fierce grin cut his bleeding face. "Let's get back to the others," he rasped. "I think it's time to talk deal."

* * *

Cyborg let go of Aquaman's beard and stared in horror at the blue-white sun soaring into the sky. Dropping his fist, he teetered back, struck dumb by the sun's anguished scream.

Kryptonian eyes cut through the glare and distance first. "It's the girl," Superman said hoarsely, floating back to the ground. "She's triggered."

"Seriously?" Superboy exclaimed, hovering next to Superman. He shot Cyborg a look of confusion, and said, "But I thought you said she—"

With bits of debris raining from her lustrous hair, Wonder Woman said, "It doesn't matter anymore. If she's triggered, we have to stop her. Maybe for good."

"Let's go," Superman said, his face and voice falling grim. He took to the sky with Wonder Woman on his heels, leaving the Titans and the rest of the League in their shadows as they flew to meet the nimbus that was Tek.

Cyborg watched her fly higher, her screams still ringing throughout the city. Telescoping his gaze, he followed Superman and Wonder Woman into the glare, letting his vision filter the worst of it out.

"Do you see?" Aquaman snarled behind him. "Do you have any idea of what you've done now? That girl is a threat to all of us, and you protected her! What she does next is on your heads!"

"She hasn't done anything yet!" Kid Flash insisted. Hesitation laced his words.

The two Leaguers soared into the heart of Tek's glow. Cyborg watched them flinch at the light, and then push through. The pair separated to flank Tek. Together, they spiraled into the night sky. Their movements became a dance, one that entranced Cyborg with its fluidity, and horrified him with what would come at the dance's end.

He saw Tek's hand fly open as if to bar Wonder Woman's approach. A new aperture opened in Tek's palm, and temporarily blinded Cyborg with more light than his filters were prepared to handle. As his eyes adjusted, he watched the air at Tek's palm shimmer and condense, turning dark blue with incalculable power. A wall of force spread from Tek's touch, and then leapt at Wonder Woman. The force field shoved her down as though she were nothing, throwing her down through the roof of a building.

Superman darted forward at Tek's counterattack. Tek's other hand opened. This time the air glowed green. Her hand crackled with green lightning, which leapt forward and snared Superman. The Man of Steel thrashed in the lightning's grasp, and then tumbled free, dropping to the earth with smoke trailing from his cape.

Cyborg's sight retracted. He found himself already running after the distant blue-white star over Jump City. The avalanche of footsteps behind him told him that the rest of the Titans had followed him, regardless of the doubt he knew they felt. He knew, because he felt it too. But he pushed through the doubt, and put everything he had left into his legs.

"Anybody that can still fly, get me in the air," he snapped. "We're getting to her."

Superboy and Wonder Girl appeared to either side of him. They didn't say a word, or even glance between each other. Their eyes remained locked on Tek as they each grasped Cyborg by an arm and lifted him off the ground. Cyborg looked down at the receding street, and then back up to find that Raven and a green eagle had formed up ahead of them.

The five Titans cut through the sky until their faces blazed with the light from Tek's flight. Her screams had grown rough, but continued on unabated. The force and energy from her hands detected the Titans' approach, and crackled around her accordingly. Fields of yellow and green and blue layered themselves around her, swirling together to form a spherical shield.

The green of the shield palled Superboy's face. His flight faltered, skewing Cyborg's ascent. "I…I can't…" he gasped. "K-Kryptonite…"

As he dropped from underneath Cyborg's arm, Wonder Girl caught Cyborg by the waist. She grunted, and hoisted the heavy Titan higher without visible effort. Her scowl didn't falter until they drew closer to Tek. Their proximity made Tek's counterattacks intensify into random bolts of yellow and blue that crackled off her force fields like lightning.

Wonder Girl flinched at a trio of bolts that would converge upon her chest. She felt a cold gust of air, and looked up to find Raven interposed between her and the bolts, which crackled against a wall of soul-self.

Raven grunted as she pushed back against the force of the yellow lightning. She gasped in shock as blue lightning joined in from other force fields. Slowly, she began losing ground. White cracks appeared in the black ether of her wall.

A shrill cry subsumed Tek's scream as the green eagle shrank into a falcon. It swooped outside the protection of Raven's wall and darted through the bolts. Colorful lightning chased after the falcon Beast Boy, drawing power from Tek's defenses that kept Raven at bay.

Inch by inch, Raven led them closer to Tek. The strain of pushing through the bolts of energy showed in Raven's trembling, tensed body. As her push drew to a halt a mere twenty feet from Tek, she looked back to Wonder Girl. "Can't get closer," she clipped through clenched teeth.

Wonder Girl nodded. With Cyborg in hand, she soared over the edge of Raven's wall and into the line of fire. New bolts leapt from Tek's force field, chasing Wonder Girl higher. She drew breath to shout to Tek, but a fast bolt snaked into her stomach, punching her back. She lost her grip on Cyborg's armor and tumbled through the air.

Freefalling, Cyborg tracked his arc, ignoring the sting of stray bolts from Tek's defenses. His soles opened up, revealing micro-jets. With one command, and two ignored warnings from his systems, Cyborg burned his jets' fuel in one tremendous burst, rocketing himself straight into Tek's force fields.

A catalogue of energies shot through Cyborg. He felt half his fuses burst as he grabbed the edge of one of her force fields. The orbiting field nearly tore itself from his grasp, but he held on, letting his phalange servos burn out in a death-grip over the edge of the phantasmal barrier. He whirled around Tek, riding her defenses while they cooked his circuits into acrid ruin.

"Tek!" he screamed. "Tek, it's us! It's me!"

Her screaming stopped, replaced with the sound of desperate gasps. Tek's head tilted from side to side, her visor searching her surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. "Vic? Victor?" she cried.

"I'm here!"

Hoarse desperation flowed from her grille. "Get out of here! I can't control it!" she wailed. "I don't know what's going on!"

"You can do it, Tek!" Cyborg told her. "Just calm down. Everything's gonna be fine!"

"I remember, Vic! I remember now!" Anguish ate her fear. Her head hung in defeat. "You were wrong. You were all wrong. They put this suit inside of me. They put a monster in me. That's all I am, Vic. You were wrong."

Cyborg pounded on the side of the force field. It jolted at him, burning out his optical implant with a yellow flash. "No I wasn't! I don't care what you remember. I know you!"

"No you don't. Nobody does."

"The hell I don't!" Cyborg snapped. "I spent just about every damn day of your life taking care of you! I've watched you turn into somebody amazing. You're smart, and brave, and loyal. You stood by us through worse than this, and you want me to bail?"

"Vic—!"

"No way! I'm not giving up on you, even if you give up on yourself. You're not a weapon. You're a Titan. You were the one who said it: Titans Together. Now remember that!"

The speed of the force fields' orbit slowed. The green fields around Tek faded away, and the blue and yellow fields dimmed. Cyborg felt himself slip, and clutched the edge of the field harder.

"I know who you are. You're an amazing girl, no matter what anybody says. Now start being that girl, Tek! Get control!"

"I don't…I don't know if I can!" Tek wailed.

"I know! Now do it!" Cyborg bellowed.

A deep breath whistled through Tek's grille. Her helmet dipped in concentration. The outline of her armor tensed. Raising her hands, she thrust her grasp into the swirling force fields. Her fingers sparked against the inside of her own defenses, producing a hail of sparks that blinded Cyborg. Her breath quickened, becoming grunts, then shouts, until they merged into a long, furious howl.

The light around Tek collapsed into one blinding flash. Cyborg felt the barrier in his grasp vanish. He fell once more, half-blind and out of control.

A silhouette plummeted above him. Without the intense light, it took Cyborg precious seconds to recognize Tek. Her armor had retracted, leaving her to fall to her death in her skin suit. Her eyes fluttered in the rushing air, glazed and insensate.

Cyborg spread his arms to slow himself until Tek caught up to him. He reached up and scooped her to his chest with one arm. Without looking, he knew they had seconds at best before they struck the ground.

He curled his other hand up to his bicep. The bottom of his arm opened and sprouted a squat machine cannon, which he aimed at his leg. Covering Tek, and averting his eyes, he fired the cannon into his leg again and again, hoping he would be fast enough.

Impact foam burst from the cannon's shells, swallowing Cyborg's dented leg in an instant. The foam spread across the rest of him, and enveloped the girl clutched to his chest. They disappeared behind a wave of foam an instant before the ground rushed up to meet them. Hideous force slammed into Cyborg's back, blanking his thoughts to everything, save for pain and hope.

Years passed before he could push through the curtain of pain hung across him. He heard muffled voices outside of the dark tomb around him. Stale air burned in his lungs, which sent fervent messages into the half of his vision that remained. He struggled, but no longer had the strength he needed to break through his own invention.

The foam parted suddenly, and fresh air rolled across his face. He coughed and gasped in Starfire's glowing face as she released the torn edges of the impact foam. As soon as he had breathed, Cyborg looked down, and felt a swell of relief to find Tek wracked with coughing against his chest.

He sat up with Tek in his arms and looked around. His Titans, alongside Titans East, stood in a circle around his foam cocoon, which had punched yet another crater into one of Jump City's streets. Each of them looked haggard beyond the telling of it, a feeling he could empathize. But mostly, there were smiles waiting for him as he emerged from the foam and set Tek beside him.

"Well?" Beast Boy asked, unaware that his cowlick smoldered at the back of his head. He crouched down to stare into Tek's wide eyes. "Did it work? Are you gonna kill us?"

Tek considered him carefully. Her arm remained wrapped around Cyborg's elbow. Daintily, she licked her fingertips, and then reached around to the back of Beast Boy's head. The ember in his hair died with a faint hiss.

"Probably not," Tek said shakily.

The smiles around her grew. Tek tried to offer one back, but her lips hadn't the energy. She settled against Cyborg's side, letting a long sigh work through her nose. She felt his hand on hers, and looked up to find a warm, certain expression waiting for her.

"Told you," he murmured. "Now don't ever scare us like that again."

Before she could reply, a gust of wind pulled their attentions outside their circle. Flash had just rushed up. His pallor remained waxy even without Beast Boy to muddle his sense of balance, but his eyes sparked with significance. "Nobody move," he said.

Wonder Woman and Superman joined him from above, with Aquaman and Green Arrow carried in their respective grasps. The five Leaguers resumed their aggressive stance, worrying the Titans into a line drawn between them and Tek.

Sparks jetted from Cyborg's arm as it became a sonic cannon. His power reserves were in the red, and too many of his servos had been warped beyond usefulness in the previous fights. Still, he stepped forward, ready to start again.

"Wait," a pained voice called from down the street.

The Titans and the League looked back the way they had come, toward the source of the shout. They found Batman limping down the middle of the street, his harsh visage stained red with his own blood. He helped Robin with an arm around the teen's waist as they made their way toward the impending fight.

Robin looked far worse than his former mentor. The side of his face was swollen into unrecognizability, and missing its half of his mask. Tears and scorch marks littered his tunic. Bleeding gashes marred his black tights and sleeves. His arm dangled, useless from the elbow down. But his voice crossed the distance with deceptive strength. "Nobody do anything. The Titans hereby surrender to the Justice League…"

Outrage rocked the Titans. They shouted in disbelief, looking to one another as if to question whether anyone else had heard Robin correctly. Cyborg's cannon quivered in a rage as he lowered it to his side. "What the hell is going on, Robin?"

"The Titans surrender," Robin continued hoarsely, "on the condition that one of their telepaths scans Tek to confirm that she isn't a threat."

Flash sputtered in disbelief. "That…That's exactly what we wanted to do before!" he cried.

Robin traded a glance with Batman, and then looked back to the rest of them. "Yes," he said. "But now that she remembers, we can prove it."

* * *

"Is it supposed to make my feet itch?" Tek asked nervously.

J'onn arched his fingers over her temples, stirring her short black hair out from under his touch to create clear contact points with her skin. Standing behind her chair, he closed his eyes, and rumbled, "Just try to relax. You shouldn't feel anything."

Tek tried not to squirm in her seat at Ops' central console. The familiar surroundings of the Compound did little to make her feel more at ease. She blamed her nerves on the row of Justice Leaguers standing at the left side of Ops' balcony, watching J'onn J'onnz fingering her brain. Those Leaguers that had chased her stood out, their uniforms torn and their bodies and pride bruised. John Stewart and Shayara Hol had teleported down with J'onn to join them.

Turning her eyes, she took comfort in the other side of Ops, which teemed with Titans. Like the Leaguers, her friends remained a mess. They hadn't left her side for a second while the details of the scan were worked out.

She watched Robin lean against the balcony rail. He alone seemed relaxed among the Titans, as though he already knew what the Martian would find in her head. His battered nonchalance annoyed her. She clung to her annoyance, using it like a shield to stave off the fear she felt at having an alien root through her thoughts.

Then she realized that the alien could read her thoughts in real-time. He could read her anxiety and trepidation for the reading. Looking at her friends, she wondered if he would read her thoughts on them, and then tell them. Looking at one in particular, she wondered if J'onn would read her thoughts on _him_, and then tell him. That thought made her heart race.

No. J'onn wouldn't waste his time on anything so petty. He would tell them all what she already knew. From there, it would be a one-way trip into space. If she was lucky, they would only deactivate her suit, robbing her of her powers and making her useless to her friends. She wouldn't be a Titan anymore.

"I can find no such programming," J'onn declared, and lifted his hands away from Tek's temples. As Tek swiveled in her chair to gape at him, he offered her a knowing smile.

Cheers erupted from the Titans' side of Ops. The League reacted with cries of disbelief. Tek let both reactions wash over her as she collapsed back into her chair. J'onn's smiling face blurred behind a wave of tears as she released the long, shuddering breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.

"But what about her reaction to us above the city?" Wonder Woman insisted. She stepped forward, nursing her leg as she eyed Tek with stubborn suspicion. "She attacked us—"

"She reacted to a perceived attack," J'onn said. He clasped his hands and lowered a serious look upon Tek, sobering her smile at once. "Tek has a unique mind."

"Th-Thank you?" Tek said.

He shook his head. "It was not a compliment. Your mind is a mixture of extreme order and chaos. The bulk of your memories are like organized files: the result, I suspect, of this 'implantation' you remember. Your motor skills, speech capabilities, your knowledge of heroes, all appear the result of programming."

"But you said there was no programming," Shayara said.

"Not precisely," J'onn said. "Tek awoke with knowledge, but without experience of any kind. She became cognizant without any idea of who or what she was beyond the intellectual level. She had no idea where she was, or what to do, only that she was afraid. I suspect that the extreme situation is where the fracturing of her mind occurred."

Kid Flash wrapped his mouth around the words with confused deliberation. "Fracturing her mind? Like, her brain went to pieces? That would kill her."

"The most basic instinct any creature possesses is one of self-preservation. The glib separation of this instinct is 'flight' or 'fight.'" Kneeling down, J'onn brought his empty eyes in line with Tek's wide stare. "Armed with unnecessary knowledge and filled with fear from the very beginning, I believe your new mind forged personalities from two halves of the same instinct. Your 'flight' persona, the mindset in which you initially ran and encountered others like you, eventually grew into the personality you now possess."

Realization dawned upon Cyborg. He unfolded his arms, beginning to understand. "But when she's backed into a corner, or gets too upset…"

"Berserker," Raven uttered.

Beast Boy threw his hands with a cheer. "All right! Tek's not a sleeper agent! She's just crazy! H…Hooray?" He looked around at the solemn glares aimed his way, and lowered his hands.

"What…What does all of that mean?" Tek asked. "I mean, what happens to me now? And who made me? There was nothing left down in that lab, just an empty space. I mean, what do we do about the people who made me?"

"Excuse me?" A strange, stern voice echoed throughout Sector Prime. Tek stiffened at the voice as the Titans and League were pulled to the edge of the balcony. They discovered the source of the voice far below on the ground floor, surrounded by her retinue of four generic black suits. Looking back up at them, Amanda Waller called, "I believe we have some business to conclude, Wayne."

The railing crumpled in Cyborg's irate grasp. "How in the…? How did you people get…? I have security!" he shouted down at them.

Pushing off the far rail, Robin limped toward the rest of them. As he passed Tek, he murmured, "I think we can answer all of those questions right now."

By flight, ride, or the Fast Action Level Lift—the least popular choice among them—the Titans and League gathered before Waller and her suits. Her four men glared at the colorful gangs of heroes, keeping them at a distance with narrowed eyes and folded arms.

Cyborg and Superman stepped forward, each representing their respective teams. Standing next to the greatest superhero alive, Cyborg prayed that his voice didn't crack. "What deal are you talking about?" he demanded. "And how did you get in here? Seriously, I have security. Lots of it."

"Didn't your Batman tell you?" Waller asked coyly. "We made a deal. The League brings in the rogue weapon, and I give him information he needs to deal with the people who made her." She drew a thick folder from her lavender jacket and offered it to Superman. "Here. Everything you'll need to start your own offensive against Checkmate. Cadmus will be waging its own campaign against them, of course, so I trust you not to get in our way in exchange for the same courtesy."

Superman took the file folder with a puzzled frown. He flipped it open, and said, "I don't understand. What's 'Checkmate?'"

"A cover," Batman and Robin said in unison.

All eyes turned to the duo. The Titans and League parted, pulling aside to reveal the pair to a shocked Waller. For a moment, the severe woman maintained an expression of confusion. But as Batman's face refused to budge, her confusion faded into smug approval. "An amusing theory."

Tek stood at the rear of her team, frozen by a fear she didn't understand. As Waller's face came into clear view, she trembled, finally remembering the woman's face. "It's you!" she cried. "Y-You were the one outside of my tank…th-the tank where I… What did you do to me?"

Waller ignored Tek, her gaze drilling into Batman's stony features. "How do you know?" she asked.

"I didn't," Batman told her. "I suspected. But honestly, you weren't at the top of my list. This operation seemed sloppy compared to other Cadmus projects we've encountered in the past."

"Other projects," Superboy grumbled, splitting his glare between Batman and Waller. " I have a name, you know. I have, like, three names."

"We knew someone had made Tek to be a hero-killer," Robin interjected. "But we didn't know who. And we knew that, as long as she remained a Titan, they couldn't get to her without raising a lot of suspicion."

"But if something happened to change her standing, or bring her under suspicion," Batman said, "they would have an excuse to send people after her. That's where the Brain came into play. He was your patsy."

"The only problem being, you didn't have the necessary work in place," said Robin. "The labs were sloppy. Any idiot could look at them and tell they had been set up to frame the Brain, if he even exists."

"Uh, yeah!" Flash jeered at Waller uncertainly.

"So you made Checkmate," Batman said. "An organization tailor-made to push the League's buttons. Something we and Cadmus could agree on being a real threat. The perfect bait."

Robin pointed to the file in Superman's hand. "I'm betting there's some real art in that folder. Financial records, transcripts of conversations and calls…it's probably your finest work. It would have to be to pull this con off. Weeks to unravel it, study it, and even longer to begin to suspect it's a fake. And by then, Tek disappears from whatever agreement you made with Batman."

Waller's brow quirked. "All interesting theories. But I still don't see—"

"You came after her," Batman and Robin harmonized again.

"Tek was in a dream position to do exactly what she was meant to do," Robin said, "assuming that she would function like she was supposed to."

"She had prime access to heroes. The mastermind behind her should have raised her profile, eventually gotten the attention of the League, and planted her there, a wolf in shepherd's clothing." A nigh-imperceptible smirk ghosted past Batman's lips. "Assuming she would function like she was supposed to."

"But if she didn't," explained Robin, "someone would come looking for her. Someone would want her back, so they could fix her. They would need to fix her, or all that money and time they put into her would be worthless. So they would wait for any opportunity to discredit her. Like planting those labs for the League's resident detective to find."

"Thus, to draw out the guilty party, we would have to give them the opportunity she was waiting for. By forcing the girl to run by issuing a demand we knew her friends would never accept."

"And what better way to push up that guilty party's timetable then by drawing the League into a chase that would attract a lot of unwanted attention?" Robin added smugly. "She might even be willing to break into our base to try and make off with her prize before someone looks too hard at Tek's brain, or even the circumstances that brought her here."

"You came after her because you needed her back," said Batman.

"You pitted us against each other, hoping we would do all the heavy lifting for you," Robin said.

Waller stared at them both. Her features refused to twitch with the irritation made obvious by her posture. Finally, she said, "Assuming all of that is true…which it isn't…it doesn't change anything.

"You…" Waller found Tek among the others, and skewered the girl with a look. Tek shivered at the now-familiar sound of Waller's voice. "You're dangerous. You can't deny that you're unstable. You've lost control in the past. It will happen again. I promise you that.

"Cadmus can give you the control you need," she said, her voice softening. "We can help you. We can fix you. These children you're living with? They can't help you with that. They don't understand what you're going through."

"I'm a monster."

Beast Boy found all eyes on him as he closed his mouth. He grasped his throat, little believing that the words had come out of his mouth. Scrutiny pressed down on him from all sides, making his ears dip. Then he saw Tek, her eyes wide with the same fear he had always watched her carry.

He straightened, and cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, I'm turning into a monster. I don't really understand it, but…I can't stay hurt anymore. I'm not sure if I can even die anymore. My senses keep getting sharper. And I keep…I keep turning into these things. These really nasty things, like…like end-of-the-world things. Tentacles. Grr, and stuff. I…I can't really control it. And it scares me."

Dead silence roared behind his confession. He swallowed a thick lump in his throat, and started to step back.

Raven stepped forward instead. "I'm a demon. Half-demon. And I could end the world tomorrow. And no one could stop me," she said. She lifted her chin, and stood beside Beast Boy.

Cyborg stepped forward to Beast Boy's other side. "I'm made from military-grade hardware. I've got enough juice and oomph to bring down half this city with one hand tied behind my back," he told Waller.

Starfire came forward. "I could do so with my eyes," she said, and made her glower glow.

Standing beside her, Bushido nodded, and said, "I can kill anyone if I put my mind to it."

"Happy, well-adjusted kids don't become Titans," Cyborg said. "But we do the best we can anyway. We don't need to be fixed."

Waller frowned. "You're not doing a very good job of convincing me," she said.

"We don't have to convince you. We have to convince her," Cyborg said, and nodded back at Tek. "Tek?"

Tek walked forward, feeling weightless. Her heart hammered against her ribs, trying to break free from her chest and attack the smug, heavyset woman standing against her and her friends. She stopped at the end of the line, and laced her hand into Bushido's. In a shaking voice, she said, "Don't ever come here again."

A hunter's gleam filled Waller's eye. With a subtle gesture, she signaled her retinue to spread. They stepped apart, each of them loosening their tie and collar. "I won't need to if you cooperate," said Waller.

The man at the end grunted. His pallid skin darkened, turning slate gray in a matter of seconds. The outline of his muscular frame ballooned, straining the lines of his suit.

A green tyrannosaurus's roar billowed over the stony man. He flinched at the descending jaws of the dinosaur, which fell around him at uncanny speeds. The dinosaur's teeth cleaved cleanly through the man's waist, and then tore his torso up with a jerk of its head. Snapping its jaws around, the tyrannosaurus tossed the torso up and through the skylight. The man's disembodied legs teetered forward, spilling granite dust from the waist of his pants.

Shrinking back into his normal proportions, Beast Boy spit up a wad of powdered rock. "God, that felt good," he sighed, and glared at the emptying pants. The dust within them already crawled back toward the lobby.

Superman led the Justice League in a line that blocked Waller from the Titans. "That wouldn't be the smartest thing you ever did," Green Arrow told her.

Waller motioned her men away. The remaining three tightened their ties and obeyed, trailing back after the living dust. As she stepped back, Waller said loudly, "Little girl, you are going to lose control again. You're going to hurt someone you care about. Keep that in mind."

She turned and left without another word of protest. Tek watched her go, and flashed back to the image of Waller walking away from her tube seconds before her scientists had pumped her full of information. A terrible feeling of dread poured through her, making her shiver.

"Don't let the door hit your gigantic ass on the way out!" Speedy yelled after her.

Once Waller and her retinue had left, the line of Leaguers turned back to the Titans. The tension drawn between the two sides eased, but remained. Much of the tension fell upon the grim duo of Batman and Robin, who were caught between the two lines.

"This whole time, you knew?" Superman asked. "You knew she wasn't actually a danger. You just wanted a show to draw Waller out and incriminate herself."

"Suspected," Batman said, and glanced down when Robin said likewise.

Outrage and admiration warred on Cyborg's features. He wanted to be angry with Robin for using them. He was angry. But he also knew that Robin had done everything to secure Tek's freedom, and he had taken a worse beating for it than any of them. Crossing his arms, Cyborg settled for being irritated, and grumbled, "Did you two rehearse all of that that at all? I've seen plays with worse choreography."

Raven couldn't help herself. She quirked a brow, and whispered, "You've seen a play?"

"The answers were there all along," Batman said. He began hobbling toward the door, breaking through the League's line without looking back.

Robin glanced once at his departing mentor. Then he turned and limped through the line of Titans. "I just did what I had to do to find them," he said.

"Well," Green Lantern said brusquely, "I think this whole mess proves one thing. You kids have to see by now how important it is that we all work together. A little cooperation could have saved us all a lot of hurt and a lot more property damage."

Stepping forward, Superman offered Cyborg his hand. The gesture startled the Titan, wiping the scowl off his face. "John's right. You kids have more than proved yourselves, and not just today. You've done some great things on your own. Imagine what you could do coordinating with the rest of us. Besides," he said, and rubbed his chest with a smirk, "I think I'd feel safer with you all with us than risk another fight like that."

Cyborg stared at the hand in shock. He could scarcely believe his ears, and ran a brief diagnostic on them just to be sure. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, he knew. He also knew what his answer would be.

But before he could speak, Superboy stole his answer and gave voice to it. "Get the hell out of here, Clark," the clone scoffed.

Superman's smile faltered. "Conner, you don't—"

"Seriously," Speedy said, and struck Green Arrow with a furious scowl. "Get out. Leave."

"This isn't your farm team. We aren't your reserves," Aqualad said, and pushed Aquaman's glare back with one of his own.

"We're Titans," Kid Flash said. "T—I—Double T—A—N—S. Learn it."

"We're not interested in your pissing contest with Cadmus. Whip them out and measure them already, and leave us out of it," Wonder Girl said with a keen look to Wonder Woman.

Cyborg looked back at the teenagers standing behind him. Earlier that day, he had seen two separate teams. He only saw one now. Turning to Superman, he smiled, and said, "Thanks for coming. You remember where the door is, right?"

Superman let his hand drop. His expression followed suit. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, and sounded genuinely disappointed. As he turned, the rest of the League fell into step, many of them wearing harsher disappointment than Superman's.

After the League disappeared through Sector Prime's security door, Cyborg allowed himself to sag. He felt a hand at his elbow trying to help him. Looking down, he saw Tek's tearful face beaming back at him. "It's been a long day," she said, her throat thick.

He nodded, and looked back at the expectant faces of Titans East. "Let's go sit down," he said. "We've still got something to discuss."

* * *

The Wardroom rang with Cyborg's steps. He paced the length of the long table, which seated the entirety of Titans East along its far side. None of the new Titans spoke or moved, save to trade uneasy glances with each other as Cyborg's silence raged on. The city glittered behind them through the room's bay window, with the immediate street in ruins.

Robin sat nearest to the head of the table, his arm hung in a sling. A fresh mask adorned his face, stretched uncomfortably over the swollen half of his face. He sat as straight as he could, comporting himself with as much dignity as his tattered uniform would allow. His empty gaze sat on the opposite wall, the only eyes in the room that didn't follow Cyborg.

Cyborg hefted a long, flat metal box under his arm as he considered the Titans across the table. After a thorough examination of their nervousness, he traded a silent glance with Raven, the only other of his team to sit on his side of the table.

"You all just up and decided one day that you were Titans East," Cyborg said at last. He stopped at the head of the table with a scowl. "You got dolled up in your little costumes…some more than others," he added with a snide look to Superboy's T-shirt, "and figured that you had everything it took to call yourselves Titans."

He slammed the box onto the table, making five of the six new Titans jump. His scowl doubled as he said, "You have no idea what it takes. You wouldn't know what makes a Titan if it flew up in a super-jet and blasted y'all with the answer. Being a Titan is more than wearing the clothes and saving the day."

With a wireless signal, Cyborg opened the box. He drew from it a single sheet of paper. Tight, typed paragraphs and messy signatures littered its surface. Slapping the paper down, he pushed it across the table.

His scowl became a smile. "You have to sign, too."

Wonder Girl drew the paper toward her. The rest of the table's side gathered around her, excluding Robin, as she read the top line aloud. "This I vow?"

Cyborg removed his finger and clicked its top, revealing the end of a pen. He offered the off-putting pen to Wonder Girl, who took it with a grimace. "You were right. We all need something to believe in. This is what I believe in," he said, and nodded to the Titans Charter. "I hope you will, too. 'Cause I can't imagine a better group to have my back than you guys."

A dazzling smile spread across Wonder Girl's face, the first Cyborg had ever seen from the serious Amazon. As she lifted her pen to add her name to the bottom of the page, Cyborg couldn't resist, and added, "There is just one thing. 'Titans East' is a pretty goofy name."

Wonder Girl paused. "You don't like it?"

He grinned, rekindling hers in kind. "Not as much as I like 'Teen Titans.' Fix your stationary, huh?"

She signed the page with a smirk. "Anything for you, 'Titans West.'"

Five new names joined the mess of script at the bottom of the Charter. When the new Titans had finished, Cyborg accepted his finger and the Charter, and replaced both where they belonged. Sealing the box, he said, "Now go home already. I'm exhausted."

They stood, and chuckled, and offered Cyborg their hands. He shook each one as they left the Wardroom. Robin trailed last, not bothering to offer his hand or his opinion. But he stopped as Cyborg's hand lowered in front of the door, blocking his way.

"I want you to know," Cyborg said, keeping his voice low so it remained in the open room, "that what you did to us sucked. You used us and played us. You should have trusted us."

Robin stared through him, impassive to the dangerous rumble in Cyborg's voice. "Was there anything else?" he asked.

"Yeah. I don't know what happened to you, and I guess in the end, it doesn't matter. But I want you to remember this." With a deep breath, Cyborg said, "Anytime you want to come home, come home. And even if you never do, we'll still be here. Okay?"

The muscles in Robin's jaw bunched. It was the only reaction he gave Cyborg. Sighing, the larger Titan walked out the door, shaking his head.

Robin waited a moment, allowing the walkway outside to clear. As he left, he heard Raven say, "Wait." He stopped, startled, for he hadn't remembered her presence in the room.

Raven eased herself out of her chair, leading with her pregnant stomach. She stalked through Robin's stare, the shadows of her hood making her face unreadable. When she reached Robin, she stopped, and examined him coldly.

Moments passed in uneasy silence. Finally, Robin asked, "What?"

She nodded to herself. "I made the right choice," she said. "I wasn't sure until now."

"What are you talking about?"

"But you aren't," Raven continued, glaring at him. "Second chances are rare, and you're wasting yours."

She reached out and touched his face. He refused to flinch as her cold skin met his bruise. A tingling sensation rushed from the contact, like lightheadedness that spread all throughout his body. Robin tensed at the sudden sensation, which subsided as quickly as it had come.

Raven grimaced and staggered back. Her hand fell from Robin's face to grasp her elbow. Pain flooded her eye, making it tic. After a moment, she straightened. Soul-self filled her hand, becoming a sickle, which she swept through the strap of Robin's sling.

His arm fell to his side, sore, but healed. He flexed his restored joint, and then looked back up to find Raven's glare upon him. His face, devoid of all but a hint of bruising, wore a look of mild surprise.

"Stop it," Raven told him, and pushed him aside to leave.

Robin remained in the Wardroom, entombed by his own thoughts. His attention drifted out the window to the sparkling skyline, where it lingered for a long time. At last, he pulled his eyes out of the city. He left the room, cloaking himself in his cape and his thoughts.

From the level above, a pair of luminous green eyes watched Robin leave. Behind the eyes lurked fervent emotions, feelings that had been locked away for months. Those feelings brought with them a need, which had been smothered and stifled and avoided at every turn. Now that need shook the eyes, and thundered through the body to which they belonged.

She could deny herself no more. Starfire felt her quickening begin. She shuddered, and looked away.

* * *

Tek stood at the nursery's window, watching the lights of the city teem through the streets. Around her, the abandoned decorations of Raven's shower shouted cheer into the darkened room. Each of the lights moved, and stopped, and felt, and danced with the other lights. Before, Tek had never imagined that she could be one of those lights. She still couldn't. She didn't know what it meant to be one of them.

The door swished, admitting a single set of soft, heavy footsteps. Cyborg's voice trickled to her through the quiet. "I'm surprised you're still up," he said, and joined her at the window.

"I never really stopped to think about all of them," Tek murmured. "Look at them all. Thousands of them. They all have different dreams, and hopes, and lives. I never got it. I never tried. I just thought I would wake up one day, and remember, and I would understand."

"I don't think it works like that for anybody," Cyborg said. She could hear the smile in his voice. "Are you disappointed?"

Fresh tears welled in Tek's eyes as she said, "I'm happy. I don't have to sit around, feeling like I have to wait until I remember how to be like them. I feel like I get to be a person now."

A cool metal hand fell over her shoulder, wrapping her in comfort. "Maybe it doesn't count for much," Cyborg said, "but I always thought you were a person. A really cool one, too."

She slid her hand around his waist, only able to reach halfway before she ran out of arm. Her tears slid down the side of his chest. "It counts a lot," she said huskily.

He pulled her into a hug, pressing her to his pockmarked, punctured chest plate. A single tear burned in the corner of his eye. He let the tear fall, and smiled, and held her close.

When the parted, Cyborg cleared his throat, and said, "So what now, Tek? There's a whole wide world out there for you. A lot of it sucks, but there are definitely some things worth sticking around for."

She cleared her eyes with the back of her hand, unveiling a contemplative expression. Finally, she decided, "I want a name. A real name, like a real person has."

Mirth pulled at the corners of Cyborg's mouth. He folded his arms, pretending to nurse hurt feelings. "What? Tek's not good enough for you? But Beast Boy spent two whole minutes thinking it up. Do you know how hard it is getting him to think about anything for two minutes?"

A brief chuckle broke through her somber contemplation. She turned back to the city, and said, "I don't even think of myself as Tek. Heck, whenever I talk to myself, I just call myself 'alley girl,' like the Streetbeat did."

"Alley girl," Cyborg repeated. "Alley. Allie. Allison."

Tek looked over in surprise. A slow smile crept into her. "Allie," she said, tasting the sound with a careful tongue. "Allie. I kind of like it."

"Good. But you're on your own for a last name," Cyborg said. "There's not much I can do with 'Girl.'"

Looking out across the city, Tek plunged her thoughts down into the deep streets between the tall buildings. If she looked hard enough, she could imagine herself back in that first alley. Not the alley she had discovered that night, but the one in which she had awoken.

That first alley had set the tone for her entire life, a chance encounter in the rain with a man she never knew who wanted her dead for reasons she hadn't known until now. She remembered the first words she had ever heard, and how true they had remained for her.

"Hunter," she said. "Allie Hunter."

* * *

Night blanketed the Earth's face. A swirl of clouds flickered across whole continents, obscuring the string of golden lights planted into the planet. Each light represented a city, a twinkling star shining in the ground, peaceful from the extreme distance.

Batman watched the stars in the planet, not fooled by their illusory peace. He knew firsthand the chaos roiling beneath those lights. His reflection overlaid the distant Earth in the Watchtower's viewport, glaring back at him with the empty eyes of his own cowl.

The meeting room remained quiet and dark until Superman entered, casting a long light across the floor that almost reached Batman at the viewport. Superman walked past the empty, seven-seated table and joined his opposite without a word. The door closed behind him, sealing them both in the thrumming quiet of the Watchtower.

"You didn't need to trick us like that," Superman said at last, keeping his gaze and voice aimed at the planet. "We would have helped you. In fact, if you had let everyone know your plan, we could have coordinated. Then the Titans wouldn't hate us. They might have even joined us. At the very least, we could have saved everyone a lot of pain."

When Batman remained silent, Superman continued, "I started putting it together after the fact. You did everything you could to antagonize them. You sent John to order them around. You sicced Nightwing on them. You stirred up the rest of us, making sure we were scared enough to do something about it, when I know you knew we would have cooperated if you had given us the whole story."

Batman still said nothing. But his chin dipped, a barely noticeable gesture that spoke volumes to Superman.

"What I can't figure out is, why?" Superman said. "Why did you want the Titans to run?"

For a long moment, the question hung between them, heavy in the recycled air. Then Batman turned away from the Earth to look at Superman. "What do you think will happen when Cadmus gets tired of playing shadow games?" he asked.

Superman frowned. "Our relations with the government aren't what I'd like them to be, I admit. It just means we need to work harder to earn their trust."

"No," Batman said. "They'll never trust us. And maybe they shouldn't. But one way or another, a war is coming, Clark. What happens after the dust settles?"

"We'll get through it," Superman said, "like we always do. We'll do what we have to for the good of everyone."

A slight smirk flitted beneath Batman's cowl. "You never once considered the possibility that we might not be the ones standing in the end. You never do."

"But you have," Superman said, his voice becoming edged. "Bruce, what does that have to do with—"

"It might not be Cadmus. It could be Luthor, or Brainiac, or any number of threats we haven't encountered yet. Someday, the League won't be here anymore," Batman told him. He turned back to the Earth, watching the slow revolution of its starry surface. "And when that happens, they'll need someone else. What we do is too important to hinge on us being here to continue it. The mission has to go on."

The reality of Batman's words dawned on the Man of Steel. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You were testing them," he said.

"They were right. They aren't meant for the League," Batman said. "They won't join us. They shouldn't, because one day they might have to replace us."

Superman settled into the notion with a start. He turned back to the window, and watched the Earth turn with Batman. A moment later, he said, "It was good seeing Robin again. He's really come into his own since he left Gotham. Don't you think?"

With a grunt, Batman turned from the window. He stalked toward the door, cloaked in his cape.

"Bruce," Superman called back, giving Batman pause at the door. "Do you really think they could? If it comes down to it, do you think they'll be ready?"

Batman raised his thumb and forefinger, keeping their tips a hair's breadth apart.

He turned with a smile that faded too quickly, and stood watch over the distant planet below. Even with all the trials and troubles that awaited him, it gave him a small measure of hope to know that, whatever happened, someone else stood by to face them should he fail.

"Coming from you, Bruce," said Superman, as Batman left, "that's a pretty high compliment."

**To Be Continued**

* * *

Early? You bet! I don 't trust the internet at my parents' house to get the job done, so here you go. Enjoy a double-helping of Adaptation madness in good health. Have a safe and happy holiday, even if you don't celebrate anything except time off from work or school. I'll see you all in two weeks for the final one-shot of the story. Until then, keep reading, because the best is yet to come!


	32. Gestures

_Disclaimer_

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

_Gestures_

The warehouse door burst off of Superboy's knuckles, caving inward on its way to the floor. A wave of dust rolled out from beneath its crashing fall, which rang throughout the reaches of the cavernous interior. The gust of air sparkled in the light spilling through the loading dock door.

Rose Wilson steeled her eyes against the gust, keeping her gaze leveled at the six Titans framed in the empty door. Her thumb brushed one of the hilts strung to her slender waist for reassurance. Anxiety made her heart stumble in her chest. She kept her nerves from reaching her face, meeting their six glares with a cool, haughty expression.

Around her stood five others, all young like her or younger than her, all loyal to her cause through money or promises. The smallest of them, a spindly boy at her side, stepped forward unprompted. He wore a green body suit and matching domino mask, with a question mark emblazoned on his spoon chest.

"Pop Quiz!" cackled Kwiz Kid, Rose's recruited strategist. "My salty legs are fit to burst, and growing soggy! Find me before the fire sinks, and—"

The Titans moved into the warehouse, unperturbed by Kwiz Kid's shrill riddle. Speedy shouldered his bow and produced from his quarrel a crude bomb of dynamite strapped to a black box detonator. Broken wires trailed from the bottom of the box, rendering the bomb inert. "Yeah, yeah," he said, and tossed the dead bomb across the floor. "We already solved your dumbass quiz. You left this under the docks, by the way."

"We actually had to check three or four times," Aqualad piped in. He still dripped of seawater from his underwater check of Steel City's marina. "I mean, just the one bomb? Next time try and make us work for it a little."

"Or better yet, don't," Wonder Girl said. She floated above the rest of them with Superboy. Her lasso trailed from her fist, its noose open and hungry. "We've got more than enough to do without dealing with you morons again."

From Rose's other side came a venomous scoff, emanating from the grille of a bulbous, split helmet. An armored boy of amphibious design crouched beside Rose, his red and orange hues impossible to miss even in the shadows of the warehouse. The fish out of water, Kid Devil Ray, clutched his trident and snarled, "I told you we needed more bombs, Question Dork!"

Behind him, a monstrous creature stood in confused delight. His skin resembled chalky blue-white crystal, with a thousand different facets composing his muscular shape. A black shirt with a reversed Superman shield stretched to encompass his blocky chest. Wiry black hair clung to his scalp and crawled above his eyes as brows, which lifted at Wonder Girl's barking voice. "Me am wanting more bombs!" said Match. "Plan am no working! Wonder Girl am no here!"

"Ugh. Him?" Wonder Girl muttered, and heard Superboy grunt a similar thought.

A lean boy tensed behind Rose. His outline blurred with bottled speed, making his black and green, lightning-striped suit into a dark haze. His yellow goggles, adorned with long hooked bolts from his ears, rested longingly on the golden Kid Flash among the Titans. "C'mon, c'mon!" growled Inertia. "Let's just kill 'em! C'mon!"

"No," Rose snapped. She drew her sabers in a long, deliberate motion, and held them at defensive angles. "Stay together. Lend each other support. I want them kept busy, not dead."

A feral growl emanated from the elegant neck of the creature crouched before Rose. Blue and gold armor wrapped around the creature in feminine curves, accented by the otherworldly beauty of her dark feline features and bountiful hair. Her claws raked the floor, tearing furrows into the concrete. "Busy them yourself. I'm here for blood!" Pantha snarled, and pounced.

Hastily, Rose swung her sword forward, trying to mask the breakdown in command. "Tyrants, terrorize!" she bellowed.

Until the moment of their charge, Robin had waited at the fore, his body cloaked in the scalloped folds of his cape. He threw back the folds, unveiling readied birdarangs beneath his fluttering wings. "Go," he uttered.

Action exploded around him in five parts, flying and running headlong into the fight. "Titans Together!" they bellowed, emboldened by new unity. Even as the chaos of battle separated them, they fought together.

A green haze filled the room, and then converged on the Titans. They recognized the color as Inertia seconds too late to do anything to stop him. But Kid Flash vanished from their ranks, becoming a blur that tinged Inertia's haze with yellow. The speedsters' fight raged on at unfathomable velocity, well beyond the range of any other Titan or Tyrant to intercede.

Rose led the rest of the Tyrants headlong into the charging Titans. She felt an impact against her swords an instant before Robin appeared in front of her. Birdarangs trembled in his grasp, reversed, their winged blades cradling the edges of her sabers. Rose gritted her teeth and tried to force edged death down upon Robin. Her sabers refused to budge, no matter the sweat and muttered curses Rose poured into them.

Implacable calm rendered Robin's face glacial in spite of the tremendous force pressed upon him. He held her blades at bay with his birdarangs. The blank expression surrounding his mask unsettled Rose more than his early entrance had. She leaned into his face, and snarled, "I bet you think you've won, don't you?"

Robin grunted, pressing against her blades. Her sabers' edges glinted, reflecting in the lenses of his mask to make his glare flash.

"Well, you've already lost," she spat. Her arms quivered. Her efforts doubled, fed by apoplectic disgust for the arrogant Titan. Inch by ragged inch, her sabers began their descent toward Robin's stony features. "I won the moment you decided to stop me. You think I care about blowing up some stupid dock? Or about these retards? Forcing you to act, making a big spectacle, that's the kind of thing I need to draw out—"

Robin's arms straightened with a sudden jerk, as though her effort meant nothing. The move forced her back into a stagger just to keep her footing. "Hold that thought," he said. He spun and planted his heel under her rib cage, driving the wind out of her as she skidded onto her back.

Arrows and question marks peppered the air. The arrows sank into concrete and dotted the far wall, their sharp points keeping Kwiz Kid on the run. Kwiz Kid's tumbling, curved grenades bounced wide as a result, their explosions forcing Speedy to sidle and straife.

Overhead, Wonder Girl struggled in a viselike blue grasp. Match pinned her arms to her sides with his, clutching her to his irregular chest. She felt hot laughter stir the hair tucked behind her ear. "Me am hating you never, Wonder Girl!" Match declared, leaning in for a kiss.

A rough, wet sensation clamped onto her neck. She screamed and struggled harder. "Augh! It's like getting a hickey from a geode!" she bawled.

Superboy's fist brushed her cheek as he drove it into Match's distracted face. The cloned clone tumbled free of Wonder Girl, who grasped her wet neck with revulsion. Before Match could recover his flight path, Superboy careened into him. "Hey!" Superboy snapped, "That am my not-girlfriend!"

Fury lit Match's eyes, washing Superboy's surprise with red heat. "You am no real Superboy!" Match bellowed. His hands found Superboy's, and laced into them with crushing force. "Me am real Superboy!"

"Hoo, boy," Superboy muttered, and pushed back in the contest of super-strength.

Speedy felt his hair stir at a questionade's close detonation. Shrapnel stung across his back, most of it absorbed by his body armor. Warmth trickled down his neck beneath a sharp kiss to the back of his scalp. He touched the warmth and saw sticky blood come back on his gloved fingertips. Scowling, he nocked another arrow. "Hold still, Kid Riddle!" he snarled.

Two birdarangs streaked into Speedy's shot. One clipped the questionade from Kwiz Kid's hand, making the deadly punctuation skitter away harmlessly. The other birdarang flew across Kwiz Kid's jaw. He spun, trailing stringy blood from his lip on his way to the ground. His eyes rolled back into his head, which bounced hard, and then fell still.

"Hey!" Speedy cried. "I had him lined up!"

But Robin was on the move. His cape streamed behind his low, determined sprint across the warehouse floor. His eyes remained high on the battle overhead. Between him and the aerial fight stood Aqualad and Kid Devil Ray, both locked in their own standoff.

"You're good, little prince," Kid Devil Ray crowed, his voice reverberating from his helmet as the two combatants circled each other. "But me? I'm a real cold-bloo—Hey!"

Kid Devil Ray staggered as Robin leapt and sprang off the armored Tyrant's shoulder. The push knocked the Tyrant onto his backside, forcing the trident out of his hands. Before he could rise, an electro-disc surreptitiously stuck to his back alighted, filling Kid Devil Ray with a nimbus of crackling light. The disc's stylized "R" blackened into illegibility while Kid Devil Ray convulsed. His powered armor became a three hundred pound prison of smoking components that laid him flat on the ground.

Crystalline blue hands wrapped around Superboy's face, squeezing with pressure enough to turn his head into a bloody diamond of condensed meat and bone. "Little help?" he howled through Match's fingers, pulling at them without effect.

Robin's leap lifted him above the contest between Superboy and Match. He filled his palm with a black sphere from his belt without looking. As he arced over the pair, he hurled the sphere down into their midst. It burst above them with a glowing powder that coated them both.

The glow enveloped Match, who howled in pain. His strength fled from Superboy's face, allowing the brawny Titan to see himself covered and surrounded by an alien glow. "Ah! Kryptonite!" he screamed, and began clawing at the clinging powder.

Then he noticed the color. The powder glowed with the color of faint blue chalk. He didn't feel the sapping, agonizing sensation he associated with kryptonite. But as he watched, Match cratered the floor in a screaming heap, convulsing as though the powder had been kryptonite. He pinched some of the powder out of his hair and rolled it between his fingers. "…the hell?" he muttered.

Wonder Girl touched down a half-second after Match made his meteoric landing. She winced in sympathy. Then a hot pain arched her back, making her wince for real. She whirled, and found Pantha crouched behind her. The feline Tyrant licked her reddened claws with a sneer.

The lasso at Wonder Girl's side swung into her hand, its noose already crackling with her rage. "Oh, you—" Wonder Girl began, widening Pantha's sneer.

Robin came down hard on Pantha, landing from his tremendous leap. His metal soles drove between Pantha's shoulder blades. Pantha crumpled under him, her chin striking the floor hard enough to rattle her eyes. As Robin stepped off, Pantha groaned. Wonder Girl doubted she would rise under her own power any time soon.

She glared at Robin's indifferent glance. "Nice teamwork," she grunted.

The green blur permeating the warehouse coalesced behind Robin. Inertia caught the Teen Wonder by the throat with his arm. A swift jerk drew Robin off-balance as Inertia pressed his other hand's fingertips to Robin's temple. The fingers buzzed against Robin's skull, drawing an instant migraine throughout his head.

"Nobody move!" Inertia howled past Robin's ear. He glared at the remaining Titans, and put as much of Robin as he could between him and them. "Now, you're all gonna turn around and walk away, or I swear I'll vibrate my hand right through birdie's melon and stir his brains into a slushy!"

Kid Flash appeared in front of the others with his hands raised entreatingly. "Hey! Let the slowpoke go, you good-looking son of a bitch," Kid Flash snapped. "Let's keep this between us."

Furious heat welled in Superboy's eyes. "You hurt Robin, and you won't be around to brag about it, skid mark," he barked.

"You think I'm kidding?" Inertia screeched. His hand shook harder, bruising the skin at Robin's temple. "Back the hell off, before I—!"

Robin remained statuesque in the speedster's deadly grasp. His thumb brushed the buckle of his belt. The motion triggered a hidden cache of pink gas that exploded from the belt's canisters and swallowed them both.

Inertia scrambled back out of the pink cloud, coughing it back at Robin. "Ugh! What the fu…" He staggered, swaying violently. His feet danced from side to side, trying to stay under him. He collapsed to the floor, his eyelids heavy beneath the yellow tint of his goggles, his body limp and sprawled.

Kid Flash sped behind Wonder Girl as Robin stepped out of the dissipating pink cloud. He peered over her shoulder, and said in a startled voice, "What the hell is that stuff? Speedonite?"

"A paralytic agent," Robin said. He tapped his nose, and snorted a pair of nasal filters into the palm of his glove.

"Nice," Speedy said, bracing his bow across his shoulders as he examined the motionless speedster. "He won't be moving for a couple of hours." He sniffed, and then backpedaled. Revulsion twisted his features as he added, "Or controlling his bowels."

Blue powder sprayed from Superboy's hands as he brushed though his hair. "Okay. But what the hell is this stuff that knocked Match out so fast?"

Robin turned, surveying the warehouse floor. "Kryptonite," he said.

Superboy screamed and flinched. Then he stared down at his blue hands, and said, "Yeah, but…huh?"

"Kryptonite doesn't usually affect imperfect clones like Match," Wonder Girl said. She swiped her finger across Superboy's forehead and rolled the blue powder between her fingertips. Looking up at Robin, she said, "You altered it. You turned it into some kind of Bizarro kryptonite?"

"More or less," Robin clipped.

"So it's still radioactive? Am I going to get, like, super-cancer, or something?" Superboy asked, eyeing the powder.

Smirking, Wonder Girl said, "Maybe if you ate it. But I don't…" She watched Superboy consider his finger, which drew closer to his open mouth. "Conner! Don't you dare!" she snapped.

He jerked his hand back. "I wasn't gonna!"

Strutting forward, Kid Flash circled around his paralyzed nemesis and traded a high-five with Aqualad. "Sweet and slick! That's six points for the Teen Titans, and a grand total of zip for Tyrants East. Hoo-ah!"

"Five."

The sharp growl spun Kid Flash in place. He looked back. "Muh?"

"There are only five here," Robin said. "Wilson got away."

The rest of the Titans turned, searching the interior of the warehouse. All five of Rose's recruited Tyrants lay in the heaps in which Robin had rendered them. But Rose herself had vanished, leaving behind no trace.

Robin drew his cape about him with a sharp gesture and stalked toward the toppled door. "Secure the rest of them. I'm going try and track her from here."

A long shadow followed Robin out to the loading dock. Aqualad watched him go with a shake of his head, tousling his long, luxurious hair. "He seems kind of grim for a guy who just beat six super villains by himself," he grumbled.

Superboy watched Robin's shadow disappear from the dock before turning back to the remaining Titans. His brow wrinkled in thought. He didn't react when Wonder Girl sighed and said, "Let's wrap these guys up for the Steel City Police. C'mon."

Mirth waggled in Kid Flash's eyebrows as he slapped the uncharacteristically somber Superboy on the shoulder. "Hey, Super Brick, no need to get jealous. Just because my clone is prettier than yours...," he said, and elbowed Speedy with a laugh.

"And twice as smart as the original," Speedy said, elbowing him back.

"Ye—Hey!"

"Now, guys!" Wonder Girl snapped, startling the duo out of their banter.

As the others secured their respective nemeses with steel cord and magic lassos, Superboy stared out the open door. No sign of Robin remained.

But then, Superboy hadn't seen his friend in a long time anyway.

* * *

Raven leaned back in her seat, savoring relief from the throbbing that made her feet feel fit to burst out of her boots. The dissonance of emotions that swamped the food court rattled against her walls, a hundred different wordless expressions that niggled at her respite. Joining in came their voices, and the sound of their teeth grinding upon fast food.

Even louder, a soft, voiceless babble drifted up from her stomach, which pushed out of her in a black hill that hung over her aching thighs. The babble lurked inside her psychic walls. She couldn't block the babble, but she had learned to ignore it. She kept telling herself it would be excellent practice for when the babble finally came out of her.

Sighing, she let her mind and gaze wander separately. Both came back together when a young couple walked past her table. The couple pushed a stroller ahead of them, their thoughts buried in the bundle blanketed in its seat. A pudgy, glassy-eyed baby burbled softly. His every sound consumed his parents' attention.

They shared a smile that gave Raven pause. She listened to their silence, and felt a pang deep beneath her walls. They radiated selfless joy, and fierce devotion, and shapeless anxiety, and covetous need…a rich, deep, rushing river of emotion that almost knocked Raven out of her seat. She watched them watcher their child, and knew she didn't have a river like that in her.

Raven blinked as she realized that parents had stopped. Their attention drifted nervously to her stare, and then down to her stomach. Not knowing what else to do, Raven tilted her head and lifted her eyebrows. Her silent question embarrassed the parents. Their discomfort rebuffed Raven as they wheeled their baby away from her at a nervous pace.

She sighed again, and turned her eyes to the table, hardening her walls until the only thing she could sense was the babble from her stomach.

A paper cup slid to a stop under her nose. Rich Colombian goodness burped out of the mouth on its plastic lid and dribbled down to its cardboard insulator. She looked up and went blind at the dazzling smile hovering across the table. "One coffee, black, two sugars," Beast Boy said, and took the seat across from her.

"I don't like sugar in my coffee," Raven said. She glanced at the mountain of ice cream and chocolate syrup piled in a bowl in front of him. Her mouth watered as he attacked the sundae with two spoons. She

Beast Boy shrugged between spoonfuls. "I know. But you're always cranky after class, and since you wouldn't eat anything here, I had to sneak you something sweet."

She sipped the coffee. Even as he said it, hunger nipped at the inside of her stomach. Beast Boy's sundae tantalized her with its saccharine wiles.

A knowing glint flashed in his eye as he set his second spoon on the far side of the bowl, nearest to her. "I thought class went really well this week. I'm totally getting the hang of this 'hold their hand' thing. Next week we should swap places, just to shake things up."

"I don't think the other mothers would appreciate that very much," Raven said, and willed her hand away from the second spoon. "Probably about as much as they appreciated their breathing exercises being called 'hippoventilation.'"

Raising his spoon, Beast Boy announced, "I maintain that the hippo is a noble, graceful king of the river. And if they don't buy that, there's always Plan C."

"Plan C? You don't have a Plan B?"

He snorted. "Duh. There's no such animal as a 'beetah,'" he said. Crouching, Beast Boy morphed into a cheetah, drawing gasps and excited shouts from the rest of the mall's traffic. His mouth opened in a catty smile that arched Raven's eyebrow. Then he reverted, pointing and laughing at her. "Ha! I got a Raven-laugh."

Her brow dropped over narrowing eyes. "I didn't laugh."

"No, but you Raven-laughed. You did the Spock thing." He tried to mirror her brow with his own, and had to push it up his forehead. "Deny it all you want, but I can read you like a book."

She sipped her coffee, keeping her face carefully neutral. "I'd be more insulted," she said, "if your simile didn't hinge on you actually reading a book."

Beast Boy clutched the spoon to his chest as though he'd been skewered. "Oh! Cut down in the prime of my life! Tell all my beautiful lady admirers I thought of them in the end." He collapsed backwards, sprawled over the back of his seat. His spoon swung back toward his sundae all on its own, groping blindly for another scoop to bring to his slackened mouth.

Raven rolled her eyes at his antics, which had made them both the center of attention at her Lamaze class, just as they made them the center of attention here. He hovered around her, humiliating her, practically hounding her.

Warmth seeped into her hands. She looked down at the cup of coffee cradled in her hands, the drink Beast Boy had insisted on getting her. When he was around, Raven couldn't want for anything—food, drink, or help, whether she wanted it or not. She slid her hands around the cup, letting the warmth trickle through her cold skin.

The memory of his hand in hers came to her unbidden. He had held her hand through her class's exercises. His encouraging smile never wavered, even for a second, no matter what sarcastic barbs she slung his way.

"Finish your sundae," Raven told him, and pushed out of her seat. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Beast Boy half-rose to follow, but the shake of her head put him back in his seat with a shrug. He watched her disappear into the mall. Then he destroyed the sundae with his full attention. By the time Raven came back, all that remained was a drizzle spread across his smile.

She sat back down and slid a white plastic bag across the table, bumping it into his empty bowl. "Here. You're welcome," she said.

"Uh, thank you?" Beast Boy poked at the package. "What is it?"

"It's my way of saying 'leave me alone for a few hours.' I went to the Electronique down the hall and asked the clerk for the newest, most popular, most idiotic video game they had for the Gamestation X. Take it far away from here and play it."

Scorn whistled out Beast Boy's nose. "Raven, Raven, Raven," he said, shaking his head. "You can't just buy a video game on a whim. There are dozens of different kinds, with different themes, for different tastes. It'd be like me just going out and buying you a new…tea…dongle."

Her eyebrow rose again. "Hmm. My mistake. I thought for sure you'd like it. The girl on the box has enormous—"

"Sold." Beast Boy cackled and snatched up the bag. He made it three steps out of his chair before digging his heels into the tile and screeching to a stop. Turning back, he questioned Raven with a look.

Raven waved him away. "Go. I can take care of myself." At his persistent look, she relented, and added, "I'll call you if I start to hippoventilate."

His question became a grin. "I'll be here, quick like a beetah," he promised.

Beast Boy sank into the crowd with his new game in tow, leaving Raven alone at the table. She sipped her coffee one last time. The face she'd been holding back finally broke through her stoicism. Black ether enveloped the cup, carrying it to the garbage.

Her soul poured into Beast Boy's trash, ready to toss it after the coffee. Then she paused. The second spoon hung against the side of his bowl, still waiting for her. Its stem bumped into her finger as she floated the bowl into her hand.

She ran her finger along the edge of the spoon. A sliver of chocolate syrup stained her fingertip. Setting the bowl down, she popped the chocolate into her mouth, and stared past the spoon at the empty seat across from her.

Raven drew her communicator. Flipping it open, she typed out a brief text. Then she trashed the bowl and stood, resolving herself to find a real cup of coffee after she braved the mall for a few necessities.

* * *

Cyborg's finger hissed with a tight blue flame. A seam formed in the CUTTER's armor as he drew the flame across the crumpled section. Sparks fell in a curtain beneath his touch until he severed the section of armor, and let it clatter to the floor.

He sighed, silenced his torch, and drew the back of his hand across his brow. The small piece of armor lying at his feet was just a fraction of the ruined hulk that his CUTTER had become. One entire section of treads still needed to be rebuilt, and the roof still had mace imprints he had yet to pound back into shape.

Just looking at the tank made him cringe. But when he looked at the tank, he didn't have to look at the salvaged wreck of the Icarus sitting in pieces behind him. The Bay felt more like a junkyard than a hangar at the moment.

The doors to the Bay brushed open, and Tek entered. The smile she wore eased some of the weariness weighing in his limbs, but the pair of cold drinks she carried made him return her smile in kind. "That is the prettiest sight I've seen all day," he said.

Pink color flushed across Tek's cheeks. She looked down at her blue and white skin suit, and said, "He sees a girl in spandex, and what really gets his motor going is Lightspeed Cola? You need a tune-up."

He accepted the proffered cola, opened it with his thumb, and drained half the can in a single pull. An appreciative belch rattled his chest as he sank back against the CUTTER. "Right now, I would give just about anything to get just one of my motors running. These wrecks won't be going anywhere under their own power for at least a month."

Tek leaned next to him and sipped her soda. "Isn't that the price you pay for being brilliant?"

Cyborg choked on a laugh. He barely swallowed the other half of the can before coughing with laughter. "You and your rotten silver linings. If I had known giving you a real name would make you so damn cheerful, I would've stuck with calling you 'Hey You' from the start. I'd better take it back."

"You do, and I'll pout forever," Tek warned him, her lower lip already aquiver. Resuming her smile, she said, "But if you wanted to share my good mood, I think I know how. Why don't you take a break with me?"

The empty can crumpled in Cyborg's hand. He squeezed it into a ball. Millions of dollars' worth of military hardware and targeting sensors let him sink the tiny ball into the Bay's garbage can a full twenty yards across the room. "Kid, nothing would make me happier than to take off and play. But right now, we have two wrecks and no vehicles. That's two more wrecks and two fewer vehicles than we need to keep kicking ass and taking names. Like you said, 'the price of genius.'"

Disappointment made Tek's lip slide forward again. Her pout pulled a smile back to Cyborg's face, but did not pull him from the CUTTER. She ambled backwards toward the doors as his hands became tools again. "Mmn," she grunted, shaking her head. "Too bad. I, uh…I had bought this whole rack of ribs…"

Cyborg straightened. His torch skittered across the side of the CUTTER, leaving a long black trail. "Ribs?" he uttered.

"I was gonna give your grill a real workout. But if you're too busy, I guess I'll just have to figure it out by myself," she said, and sighed. "I hope I figure out the sauce. They say that's the secret to great ribs."

Tek knew she had him even before she turned around. The telltale ratchet of his tools becoming wringing hands gave him away. "Half an hour, kid. I need to close this thing up and scrub down."

"Oh, no," she said, and teased him with a sashay of her hips. "You're too busy. I can't let you run off and play when you've got so much work to do. Not unless you use the magic word."

"Uh, please?" Cyborg asked.

She looked back, tilting her bangs into her twinkling eyes. "That's not the magic word, genius."

An understanding smile cut through his confusion. "Can I help you with your ribs, 'Allie?'" he said sweetly.

"That's more like it. I'll see you in the Commons. Hustle up, huh?" she called over her shoulder as she disappeared through the doors.

Tek waited until she reached the end of the hall, and then checked her communicator again. She shook her head and closed the yellow device. "Absolutely crazy. You're just lucky I'm agreeable and gullible."

She continued down the hall until she came back to Sector Prime, the sprawling central section of the Compound. The late day in the skylight cast warm color across her corner of the walkway, turning her gold. She leaned over the railing and twisted her gaze to the balcony hung over her head.

"Agreeable, gullible, and crazy," she said to herself, and sighed.

* * *

Titans Lair echoed with Superboy's whoop. He flew from the entry platform, skimming his fist through the waterfall that streamed from the pumps over their heads to feed the moon pool at the base of the cave. A sheen of water sprayed off his arm, drawing a faint rainbow through the air. "That kicked all kinds of ass!" he cried.

Wonder Girl kicked off the platform, following Superboy with more restraint. Even still, his antics gave her a small, private smirk. "I have to admit, it was kind of nice to have a clean, straightforward win," she said.

Those less aerially inclined Titans gathered at the edge of the platform. Robin punched the face of a keypad. The platform lurched, and then lowered them smoothly to the cave floor. Besides the moon pool, which connected them to the ocean by way of an underground tunnel, the main chamber of the lair stood largely empty. They had yet to add the vehicles and equipment meant for the chamber.

Aqualad pulled at his arm, making his shoulder pop. "Not a bad scrap," he admitted.

"Says you. I didn't even get to beat my bad guy." Kid Flash grumbled. His leg jittered the entire ride to the floor. His glare drilled into the back of Robin's head without effect.

Wry amusement drew Speedy's lips into a smile. "Yeah," he said breezily, "it's getting to where a guy can't even beat on his own evil clone anymore."

"I know, right?" Kid Flash complained. When he saw Speedy's expression, he gave the rest of his glower with the archer. "You're pretty smug for a slowpoke named 'Speedy,' you know that?"

The instant the platform touched ground, Kid Flash sped out of the chamber, leaving a vanishing yellow wake behind him. His vortex ruffled Robin's cape. The Teen Wonder stepped off the platform, letting his cape settle on its own. The wind didn't make him bat an eye.

Superboy and Wonder Girl landed before Robin, the former with a flourish and the latter with a roll of her eyes. Beaming, Superboy said, "What, no words of praise from our fearless leader?"

Robin shouldered past him wordlessly.

The larger boy staggered back at Robin's brusque brush-off. Frowning, he said, "What? Are you mad because we lost the one girl? Oh, come on! Just because one got away—"

"The leader got away, Kon," Robin said without turning. "She'll put another team together and start this whole thing again. That's what they do. We didn't win anything." He disappeared into an opening in the face of the cave wall. The shadows swallowed him whole on his way into the interior of the Lair.

Aqualad grimaced at the empty corridor mouth. "Well, that's one way to kill a victory bash. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find someone with a cheerier disposition than Robin's. Maybe an eel or an anemone." He stepped backwards, spread his arms, and splashed back into the moon pool, disappearing into the dark water in seconds.

"Ditto that," Speedy said with a snort. "I bet the Mess has a head of cabbage with a better personality." He rested his bow across his shoulders and left down a second corridor in the cavern.

Superboy's shoulders sagged. He felt Wonder Girl's hand on his shoulder, and looked back at her apologetic expression. "I don't get it," he said. "I mean, yeah, we lost Snow White. But this was still huge for us. It was our first fight that didn't involve taking it on the chin from the Justice League. Isn't that worth anything?"

She frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I mean, we've been working on this for months. The whole time, has he cracked one smile? Told one joke? Told any of us that we've done a good job?"

"No, I mean the Snow White thing. Were you talking about the Wilson girl?"

"What?" Superboy goggled her. "Her hair was white. Snow White. I thought that was obvious."

Wonder Girl's head tilted. "Snow White was a brunette. She got her name from her complexion."

"Why are you…? Look, that's not the point!" he said. "Why isn't anyone taking this seriously? Robin's acting like a total jerk."

She patted his shoulder again, and said sweetly, "Conner, Robin is a jerk. Everyone he knows thinks he's a jerk. Titans West all thinks he's a jerk. But you saw what he did today. He's the kind of jerk who gets the job done. Isn't that why you wanted him?"

He deflated, dropping his head. "But he wasn't always a jerk. When I met him…"

"People change, Conner." Wonder Girl floated up and ruffled his hair fondly. "Maybe you haven't been around long enough to figure that out."

He folded his arms and tucked his chin into an infuriatingly adorable pout. "It sucks," he decided.

"It sucks more than anything else in the world," she agreed. Offering him one last smile, she flew back up toward the Lair's exit.

Superboy let her go without a look. He stared through the floor of the cave, his mind wandering through the very first of his memories. A bright, colorful Boy Wonder had given him his first smile, and told him his first joke. That cheery sidekick had become his first friend. Now Superboy didn't even recognize the Teen Wonder he had become.

"People change." He grumbled the words. Lifting his gaze out of the stone floor, he set his sights on the shadows that had swallowed Robin. "Well, screw that," he said, and flew into the corridor.

* * *

Raven eased into her chair at the back of the room. The shadows of the dim room draped themselves comfortably over her cloak as she pushed back her hood and shook her hair free. She caught the eye of a roving barista, who nodded at her, and sidled toward the coffee bar to get Raven her usual.

A sigh wisped from Raven's nose, taking with it a knot of tension Raven hadn't felt until sitting down. This secluded, underground coffee house was her favorite place to go in the city. Literally underground, the business had been built into the basement of a building that had been torn down years ago, and was accessed by a single stairwell in an empty lot. It had no name that Raven knew of, and a clientele that spread its renown by selective word-of-mouth.

A stage stretched across the front of the bar. At the moment, a lone musician and his guitar filled the house with acoustic white noise of a middling quality. Raven let the music wash over her, and decided not to break his guitar's strings with her mind. Noise didn't bother her as much as it once had.

She left her table's lamp off, preferring the dark. On occasion, she came to the coffee house to read with a drink, and to escape the Compound's fervent psychic caterwauling. The coffee house didn't feel like part of the city. It felt quieter, as though its secretive nature kept it apart from the torrential emotions that permeated the rest of the city.

Because of the relative quiet, the emotions she found among the patrons felt more acute, something else she didn't mind. The low lighting and soft music kept emotions softer. Each aspect of the coffee house worked to keep its patrons calm and relaxed, and as a result Raven's psychic walls endured a comparative breeze to the constant hurricane aboveground.

The barista set a cup in front of her, and then disappeared as only baristas can. Raven pulled at the cup's intoxicating aroma with a deep breath. Half-dark, half-decaf. Before the child had come along, she would have had them grind pavement into a cup, caffeinate it, and serve it to her hot enough to crack the ceramic mug. Nowadays Beast Boy monitored her caffeine intake, and she knew his nose could differentiate her favorite dark roast from the decaf-diluted brew in her cup now. It wouldn't be worth his chiding to risk slipping back into old habits.

She sipped, and blew a bemused breath across the steam of her mug. A priestess of Azar worried about being scolded by a fifteen-year-old. Were she not the very priestess in question, such a notion might have possibly made her almost smile.

A mote of bemusement sparked across the room, seemingly echoing hers. It rang with a note familiar enough to draw her eyes from her mug. She nearly dropped the mug when she pierced the gloom and found the source of the bemusement seated at one of the booths lining the wall.

Raven saw him notice her astonished stare. His face flashed with a smile. He nodded, and then turned his attention back to the stage.

She tapped the side of her mug in silent debate. Annoyance drifted through her, riding the gentle eddies of the child's babble. For one beautiful moment, she resolved herself to ignore the surprise completely, and just enjoy her coffee in solitude. Then, with a grunt, she hauled herself from her seat and carried her mug with her to his booth.

Bushido raised his teacup in greeting as Raven squeezed herself opposite him in the booth. "Good evening, Raven," he whispered.

"It figures you would know about this place," Raven grumbled, keeping her voice under the music.

"There are three key components to a fulfilled life," Bushido replied. "Sustenance, sleep, and stimulation. That's why I make it a point to find the best sources of all three wherever I travel. This establishment, for instance, brews one of the finest cups of jasmine oolong on the West Coast." He sipped, and a smile blossomed behind his cup.

"And I suppose murder falls under 'stimulation.' Or would 'sleep' be more appropriate?" Raven asked.

His smile widened as he considered her disgusted look. "You always make a point of raising my past when we speak to one another. Interesting. You truly believe that you hate me that much, don't you?"

She sneered. "You held a sword to my neck," she reminded him. Then she scowled, and echoed, "Believe? What do you mean, I 'believe' I hate you?"

Bushido took another sip. He settled his teacup onto its saucer, careful of the _clink_ it made. "I need no reminder of who I used to be. We both know that. You say such things to remind yourself, not me."

"And why would I need to remind myself of that?" she asked in a mordent whisper.

"Because you don't hate me. You want to, but you don't. Part of you likes me, or at least respects me. And that bothers you a great deal," he told her.

Raven blinked. Her third eye slivered open, sipping at his aura for any taste of duplicity. She sensed smugness, assuredness, and beneath it all a sense of absolute conviction that made her nauseous.

"Listen very carefully," Raven said, and leaned across the table to pin him with her glare. "I tolerate you. I don't believe you're a threat, if only because I or Victor or Garfield could tell otherwise and tear you to pieces before you could become a threat. I believe you see yourself as a real Titan for reasons I can't begin to imagine.

"But I don't trust you. I don't like you. And I wouldn't waste the miniscule effort it would take to hate you, but I honestly, profoundly disdain everything you are. And the day you leave our lives forever can't come soon enough."

She sat back, feeling light and flush. A tingle of adrenal vindication stormed her veins, making her quiver. She gripped her mug to hide it, and kept her cool gaze level with his.

In aura and expression, Bushido remained inscrutable. He held her gaze a moment more with a calm, contemplative look. Then he smiled and shrugged. "As you say," he said.

Disgust puffed from Raven's lips. She slid from the booth, refusing to look at him a moment more. Her coffee abandoned, Raven stalked from the booth, drawing her hood over her head to block the memory of Bushido's infuriating smile.

Halfway to the stairs, Raven's anger got the better of her. She stopped to collect herself. Embers stirred in her soul, fed by the distant hatred that followed her always. She quashed the embers, and concentrated on the hatred, walling it out of her mind alongside the rest of her emotions.

As her mind stilled, her sense of reason resumed. It fixated on the self-satisfied smile she knew waited behind her in the booth. She knew better than to dwell on it. On him.

But her curiosity resurfaced too. It pulled at her, nagging her, pestering her, until she pivoted and stalked back to the booth. The table jostled as she squeezed back in. "You can't read me," she hissed at him. "And you won't beat me with reverse psychology and patronization."

The musician's set ended with a halfhearted flourish. Mild applause smattered throughout the coffee house as Bushido sipped tea through his smile.

* * *

Impatience tapped a steady rhythm against the Commons' island countertop by way of Cyborg's finger. He leaned across the counter and grumbled at the clock on the wall. The sun sank into the skyline outside the broad bay windows. Orange radiance spilled between buildings, painting the room with a reminder that he had three or four hundred other things he had to do.

He checked the chronometer in his arm for good measure. The holographic clock flickered in front of his scowl. "Better be a prime cut," he muttered to himself. "Give the kid five more minutes. Then…" His frown deepened. Straightening, he said to the ceiling, "Sarah? Where is Tek—er, Allie?"

"_Tek is currently in her room. Would you like me to summon her?_" Sarah's voice replied sans body.

A sharp affirmative rose in Cyborg's chest when Beast Boy strode through the open doorway. "Hey, Tin Face!" Beast Boy sang, and swung his plastic bag. "Fancy seeing you outside of the Bay. I figured you had welded yourself to the CUTTER by now."

"Hey yourself, Salad Head. Did you run into Allie on your way in? Any idea what he's doing?" Cyborg asked.

"Armor All? Nope, no clue." Beast Boy dug his hand into his bag with a ferocious smile. "But I know what I'm doing."

Cyborg gaped at the box Beast Boy drew from the bag. "Mega Monkey Brawlers? The kung fu super girls versus robot ninja monkey fighting game? How'd you score that?"

The box didn't last long under Beast Boy's claws. He dug through the packaging and drew out a glistening disc that glinted orange in the sunset. "Right? Raven got it for me."

"Raven. Raven, like the one that lives down the hall?" Cyborg glanced from side to side, and felt mildly relieved that the world hadn't fallen apart around him. "Raven got you a gift?" he asked again, and ran an auto-diagnostic on his aural systems, just to be sure.

Beast Boy chuckled. "I'm pretty sure she was just bribing me to leave her alone. She just needs a night in that grim little coffee place she likes, and she'll be back to calling me names in no time. In the meantime, I plan on making the most of it." He held the disc aloft, twisting its reflective glare into Cyborg's face.

Flinching, Cyborg laughed, and blocked the glare with his hand. "Well, good for you." Glancing at the clock, he sobered. Tek still hadn't shown up, and Cyborg had a list of responsibilities that overheated his processor to think about. If she had lost her interest in ribs, he would have to get back to work. "You enjoy your bribe. I'm gonna go put our tank back together. It'd be nice not to have to carry all those groceries home anymore."

As Cyborg walked away, Beast Boy's smile bottomed out. "Dude," he said. "Come on. You're wearing your rib apron. You were gonna goof off anyway. Why not goof off with me?"

Cyborg paused. He had intended to spend an hour prepping Tek's phantom ribs. His bottom lip slipped beneath his teeth as he glanced at the clock in consideration.

Beast Boy waved the game disc at him. "It's got a tournament mode with unlockable characters," he sang. "And this one has ultra-realistic jiggle physics!"

Laughter burst from Cyborg. He raised his hands in defeat, lifting the apron over his head as he did. At his mental command, the bay windows turned opaque, snuffing the sun's glare from the room. "Boot it up, Salad Head. I can't beat photorealistic blood and bouncing. But don't complain when you get your butt kicked. I've got nerves of steel."

"And brains of lead." Beast Boy cackled and cleared the couch in one leap. The shapeshifter's energy cemented Cyborg's smile. They all had too few reasons to smile in their lives. He didn't need to pass up a rare moment of peace for work that could wait another hour.

* * *

Ops thrummed with the rhythm of an uneventful evening. The holographic city map floated overhead, its streets unmarred by Alerts. Fresh air gushed from the vents lining the bottom edge of the railing wall, keeping the balcony cool and pleasant. Sector Prime's lights had dimmed for the evening, which left Ops' bright lights to crawl across the long, sprawling floor in thin shafts.

Starfire sat at the central console, her posture severe for such a lax duty. Her hands were poised at the ends of her chair's armrests. Her gaze cut through the floating map. She poised her body and her mind at a state of constant vigilance, as though she expected trouble to leap through the map itself and attack her.

As a result, she jerked with a start when she heard Tek's chipper voice call from the edge of Ops, "Hey, Kory! How's monitor duty treating you?"

The Titan on watch turned to see Tek stepping onto the balcony. A small, thatched, open basket swung in Tek's hand. It carried a bouquet of tiny colored bottles mixed in with emery boards and sheets of stickers. Tek hummed a tuneless, tone-deaf ditty as she glided to the console next to Starfire's and plunked herself in the seat.

Terse keystrokes brought the duty roster to Starfire's screen. She skimmed the names on the roster before glancing at Tek. "You do not have monitor duty until tomorrow. Bushido is scheduled to relieve me, and not for another three hours."

"I know," Tek chirped with a shrug. "But I didn't have anything better to do, so I thought I'd come up and keep you company for a little bit."

Starfire's features calcified. "Thank you," she said, utterly devoid of gratitude. "However, I would prefer to stand watch alone."

"I know," Tek said again. "You've been keeping to yourself pretty much all the time lately. What's that word?" She wheeled her hand through the air, trying to chase the right word into her mouth. "I always forget, but then I remember, because it sounds like 'loofah.' Aloof!" She snapped her fingers. "You're aloof."

"I…see." Starfire pivoted her seat away from her beaming neighbor and settled her gaze back on the map. "Nevertheless—"

"So I got to thinking," Tek continued in that same breezy tone, "since you and I never get to talk anymore, I should put more of an effort into it. Right? And where's the one place you can't leave, no matter how annoyed you get or how alone you want to be?" When Starfire failed to provide the answer, she grinned, and said, "Monitor duty!"

Starfire thrust her focus into the map. She imagined herself falling up into its holographic folds, wrapping her attention in her duty to watch over the city.

Slowly, Tek's smile slackened, becoming a pursed line. "Oh. I see." Her chin dipped to her chest. "Y'know, Kory, I used to think we could talk about anything. I really miss that. And I was thinking…I was hoping that maybe you would finally let me know what's been bothering you for so long. But if you don't want to talk, I get it."

Silent relief blossomed in Starfire's chest. Then Tek squelched it with a thoughtful sigh. "On the other hand," Tek said, brightening, "I could just stay here and talk to you. Just talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and talk enough for the both of us. That way I won't get bored, and you won't be lonely. We both win!"

A groan rattled behind Starfire's teeth as Tek tugged the boots off of her skin suit. The basket rattled with Tek's fumbling grasp until she picked out a color she liked, and drew out a bottle of nail polish.

"Isn't it so weird?" Tek asked as she ran the brush over the end of her littlest toe. "I love painting my toenails, but I hate people seeing my feet. I wish my feet were pretty, like yours. Oh, and your hair! But I could never have hair that long. My suit would chew it up, and I'd look like I'd just lost a fight with a weed whacker every time I came out of it…"

* * *

The Hangar's hatch hid no secrets from Superboy. He saw through them to the sprawling cavern chamber where they housed their jet. Industrial dehumidifiers hidden among the chamber's stalactites thrummed, keeping the air fresh and dry. It was one of the few completely finished sections of the Lair, and consequently one of the nicest.

Yet the Hangar's sole occupant made Superboy hesitate outside in the corridor. He stared through the metal, tapping his fingers against the wall. His nervousness left a divot in the rock face before he noticed, and pulled his hand away.

"Let's go, Superman," he muttered to himself. "You can do this. You have to do this. Good of the team. So…go and do this."

His feet remained rooted to the cut stone floor. The figure in the Hangar continued to work, unaware of Superboy's presence outside. After several minutes, Superboy snorted and massaged the bridge of his nose. "You suck so, so much," he grumbled to himself. "He's not going to be mad. Just go."

Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward, slapped the hatch control, and strode into the Hangar. The smooth, poured concrete clicked against his sneakers, sending echoes ricocheting past the massive East Wing.

A small motorcycle was parked just beyond the edge of the grand jet's shadow. Comparatively miniscule, the motorcycle still drew Superboy's eye first with its bright red armor. Short, decorative wings swept back from the motorcycle's seat, and bore a stylized "R." Parts of the bike's engine lay strewn across a tarp spread underneath its wheels.

Robin crouched beside the open engine of the bike. He'd removed his cape, and streaks of grease stained his tunic. He didn't glance back as Superboy approached, focusing his attention instead on a stubborn bolt his ratchet couldn't unseat.

"Hey, Tim," Superboy said. He stopped at the edge of the tarp, and waited for some kind of acknowledgement. When Robin's attention remained inside the bike, Superboy coughed, and said, "Heh. Working hard, or hardly…um…working."

"Is there something you need, Conner?" Robin asked.

Superboy's jaw clicked shut. He folded his arms and watched Robin wrestle with the bolt. The ratchet groaned with the effort, but the bolt would not budge. After a long minute of the creaking silence, he snapped, "See, this is what I'm talking about."

Robin lowered the ratchet. "You weren't talking about anything."

"No, I wasn't. And you know why?" Superboy said, leaning down. "It's because you're not listening."

The edge of Robin's mask quirked. He found the rag resting next to his leg and wiped his gloves clean. "I'm fairly sure we're having two different conversations right now. You let me know when we narrow it down into one."

Superboy shook his fist as Robin climbed back onto his feet. "See, you always do this. You start making those really snide, snarky, sneakily mean little comments, and then I start trying to figure out what you're really saying, and then you say something else, and distract me, and then…"

"By then you've forgotten what we were really talking about," Robin said.

"Yeah," Superboy agreed. Then he shook his head. "Hey! Quit it!"

Robin squatted over his boxed ratchet set. He experimented with one of the longer ratchets, swapping the head off of his shorter ratchet. "Conner, what do you want?" he asked impatiently.

"Why did you take on the Tyrants alone?"

Superboy's blurted question made them both stop. A slow, deliberate click resounded from Robin's palm as he twisted his ratchet. Robin swept his eyes across the floor and to his bike, circumnavigating Superboy entirely. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

The black, muscular expanse of Superboy's chest blocked Robin from his bike. Robin stared through the red S-shield as he heard Superboy say, "You charged right in, birdarangs blazing, acting like you were the sheriff of Steel City. That's exactly what you taught us to not do."

Robin jumped and flipped. He landed behind Superboy and walked to his bike, all without a sound of effort. "I analyzed the situation and made a tactical decision," he said.

Whirling, Superboy snapped, "You didn't include us. You didn't even talk to us. That's what you've been harping on this whole time: 'talk to your teammates. Let them know what you're doing. Keeping each other informed will keep you all alive.'"

"If I'm the one that taught you that tactic, then I'm clearly the one who knows when to ignore it," Robin said.

The ratchet strained against the bike's stubborn bolt. Its creaking grated in Superboy's sensitive ears, making his jaw clench until his teeth creaked back at the bolt. "You don't talk to us," Superboy said.

"I talk…when I need…to talk," Robin grunted.

"You don't," Superboy said to the back of Robin's head. "You talk at us. You order us around. You haven't talked to me since Metropolis."

Robin set the ratchet aside and turned. "You brought me into this. You were the one that recruited me. You wanted me for this job, and you yanked me out of retirement to get me."

"Yeah."

Rising, Robin brought his masked glare to meet Superboy's. "You wanted Robin. You got Robin."

Superboy jutted his jaw. "I wanted 'you,'" he insisted. "I don't care what you call yourself. Bat Kid, Nightwing Boy, Amazing Lad…whatever, man. But I wanted 'you,' and you're not here."

"What do you want from me?" Robin snapped. "What more do you want me to do for this team?"

"This isn't about the team!" Superboy shouted, tossing up his hands. "Forget about the stupid team for just one second. Relax. Unclench. Hang out. Tell a joke. Grab a bite to eat with us just one time! You haven't done any of that since…"

The thought hung unfinished between them. Superboy deflated, his anger salved by memory. It wasn't until Robin spoke that he snapped out of his own thoughts.

"Christmas, three years go," Robin murmured. "You and I got together at the Ace o' Clubs down in Suicide Slums for hot chocolate and pie."

"You got me that jacket." A wisp of a smile cracked Superboy's granite jaw.

"You looked good in that jacket.

"Until you blasted it off of me."

Robin's mask dipped a fraction of an inch. A great, unseen weight settled over his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he uttered.

Puffing with exasperation, Superboy said, "Man, I don't care about the stupid jacket. I don't care about your costume, or your codename, or any of that. I wanted you, Tim."

Robin didn't stir. A frown creased Superboy's brow. The clone hesitated, and then said, "Do you know why I wanted to be a Titan? It wasn't because the Justice League is about three seconds from imploding. It wasn't to help people. I mean, don't get me wrong, those are good reasons. But really? I wanted friends.

"Last year, in Jump City, when you went off the red, glowy deep end, I saw your friends pull together and kick the snotty bejesus out of you. It took everything they had, but they stopped you. And then they rallied behind you, waiting for you to get better, like it had never happened in the first place."

A faint rasp haunted Robin's voice. "Yes. They did," he said.

Superboy's voice fell to a whisper that rivaled Robin's. "You know what I am. What half of me is. We both do. And one day, if I go off like you did, I want to know that there's somebody who can do for me what they did for you."

"You want a safety net?" Robin asked with returning strength.

"I want friends. I want friends I can count on, and people I can hang with, who understand what it's like to do what we do," Superboy insisted. "When we first started, there was just you and me. The world's finest teen team, remember? But it doesn't have to be like that anymore. We don't have to be alone, Tim."

"We're not."

"You are," Superboy said. Robin didn't reply for several seconds. Folding his arms, Superboy asked, "Why did you charge the Tyrants? Why are you ducking us whenever you're not barking orders at us?"

Robin's masked eyes rose. The blank white stare chilled Superboy down to his unbreakable bones.

"Take that thing off and answer me," Superboy said.

Slowly, Robin reached up. His gloved fingertips brushed the coal black edge of his mask. A small electric charge from the gloves relaxed the mask's metallic fabric, and made Robin's cheeks twitch. He lowered the mask and met Superboy's stare with cold, blue indifference.

"I'm here because you wanted me here," Tim said. "You wanted me to lead this team."

Superboy's eyes narrowed into a glare. He leaned past Tim toward the gutted red motorcycle. Taking the stubborn bolt between his fingers, he twisted, unseating the bolt with a metallic squeal. Superboy held the bolt's greasy stem at Robin, and said, "Must be hard to be the leader of a team you're not really on."

He flicked the bolt at Robin. The stubborn bolt bounced off the badge on Robin's chest, and then sang as it struck the floor. Robin glanced at the bouncing bolt before he looked up, and watched Superboy walk back toward the Hangar's hatch. "Conner," Tim began.

"I changed my mind. Put the mask back on," Superboy said with an audible sneer. "It's better when I can pretend like the attitude's all part of the costume."

The hatch whisked Superboy away, leaving Tim alone under the gaze of the mask he held.

* * *

The musician finished his set with a strum and a nod. Applause smattered after him as he left the stage. The lights in the coffee house rose, and conversation grew from the brief silence into a steady background murmur.

Bushido folded his hands back on the table. His attention turned back to the twilight scowl burning him from across the table. Smiling, he said, "Well, it appears I was wrong. You 'could' glare at me through that man's entire performance. Did you blink? I wasn't looking."

"You're always looking," Raven told him.

His eyebrows bounced. "Really?"

The mug in Raven's hands felt cold and clammy. She could have asked any of the baristas for a reheat, but refused to give Bushido the satisfaction of her split attention. "You're always watching us," she said. "You look when no one else is looking. You pick us apart, figuring out what makes us tick, so that one day you can stop us."

His gaze cooled as it pushed through her heated stare. For a moment, they held a battle of wills in the booth. Raven marshaled her suspicion and animosity, and sent it charging across the table to meet his unreadable expression.

Then Bushido escalated the conflict with another brimming smile. "You're right," he said. "I do watch you. This is how I know you do not hate me."

"You know that I like you," Raven said, her words crackling with sarcasm. "And what exactly have you seen that makes you think I can even remotely stand you?"

Bushido raised his cup. His pinkie finger extended out in a teasing salute. "Tea," he said, and took a sip.

Her eye scrunched. "Tea," she said.

His eyes danced above his teacup. Lowering the cup to its saucer, he said, "Tea. Every morning, you make a large pot of herbal tea. You're quite the connoisseur. You heat the water slowly in a kettle, and you brew in a handcrafted teapot with your own special blend. You then proceed to drink half the pot."

"I know what I do every morning," Raven said, tapping her thumb against the handle of her mug. "Is there a point to this?"

Bushido motioned to a barista at the distant coffee bar. "You drink half the pot. You, Raven, are the most economical person I have ever met. You never waste time, or attention, or words, or even, I suspect, thoughts. Yet every morning, after breakfast is done, you pour half a pot of tea down the drain."

"I make too much tea. So?"

"Neither Victor, nor Gar, nor Allie, nor Starfire drinks tea. And I suspect that, being such a connoisseur, you know how to portion your tea much better than that. Yet you never fail to make enough tea for two."

Raven's thumb stopped hard against her mug. Her eyebrows dropped. "You never drink my tea. You never have."

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. The tea is there, proof of your consideration."

Denial lit under Raven's tongue, ready to lash into Bushido and set him straight. But as Raven drew a breath to fuel her tirade, her mind dissected the idea. She recalled when Bushido had first moved into the Compound with nothing more than his sword and the clothes on his back. She thought of the boxed, bulk, generic teabags he dipped into a microwaved mug of water each morning. Despite her overwhelming dislike of him, Raven could remember feeling a ghost of a sliver of sympathy for her fellow tea-drinker.

"Let's say you're right," Raven said. "Even if all that were true, how on Earth does that mean I like or respect you?"

He opened his hands, as if releasing the answer to flutter on wings of enlightenment from his grasp. "It's the truest example of all. You did something considerate of me without thinking about it. Until now, you didn't even realize it."

Raven's brows wrapped around his revelation. "That makes no sense."

"Grand overtures of friendship and love are often more selfish than any demand," Bushido said. "Difficult favors, lavish gifts, and other such sacrifices come with an implicit expectation of reciprocation. The giver expects something back in return from the receiver.

"But small overtures?" Bushido grinned. "A tiny gesture, like making tea for someone, can hold far more meaning. It is consideration given without any expectations. You make me tea because you know I like tea. You expect nothing back from me for this tea. In fact, you want nothing from me. You do it simply because some part of you has esteem for me."

Raven stared at Bushido, waiting for falsehood to break through his smile. She combed his feelings, scornful of his trick. Then she blinked at the sincerity behind his words. Bushido believed everything he said to her.

"So no matter what I say, you'll continue believing that I don't despise you because I make tea that may or may not be meant for you."

Bushido spread his hands again. "Speak as you will. Your actions will always speak louder."

She stared a moment more, torn between disbelief and denial. Finally, she shook her head, and slid out of the booth. "Ryuko, you're either the dumbest or the funniest person I've ever met. Either way, thanks for the joke. And don't worry, there won't be any more tea-wasting from now on."

"Thank you," he said, speaking so warmly that she stopped and turned. "That's the first time you've called me by my name."

She stiffened, forcing a scowl across her features. As she left, she felt his smile follow her up the stairs and out into the cool night air.

* * *

"Booyah!" Cyborg crowed, thrusting his controller into the air. "Three in a row! You didn't even muss my makeup that time, Green Genes!"

His character on the screen, a buxom blonde decked out in military surplus two sizes too small, bounced with victory. Her digitized showboating over the corpse of Beast Boy's dead monkey brawler made the shapeshifter grumble as he sank back into the couch. "Maybe I oughta find an animal that eats button-mashers," he said.

Sitting back down, Cyborg said, "Maybe you should find an animal that's not such a sore loser."

"You haven't seen sore until the poop starts flying, Chrome Dome," Beast Boy said. He shrank into the shape of a monkey, who shrieked and hooted until Cyborg broke down with laughter.

"Okay, okay, no poop," Cyborg pleaded laughingly. He chuckled as Beast Boy reverted into a laughing boy. As their laughter quelled, they sat back, rustling the bags of chips and empty cans that littered the couch. They took up their controllers, ready for the next round.

Beast Boy tilted his head as he thumbed through the game's menu for their next match. "Dude, I just realized. This is, like, the first time you and me have hung out in, what? A year?"

Frowning, Cyborg said, "It can't be that long. What about…? Uh, wait a minute…" His puzzled expression melted into one of guilt. "Really? Damn…"

"Dude, it's not really a big deal," Beast Boy said quickly. "You're the big cheese now. Building a fortress, and keeping the city happy, and rebuilding our jet every two weeks has gotta eat up a lot of time."

"Yeah…" Cyborg uttered, unconvinced.

"Besides," Beast Boy said with a shrug, "I've been pretty busy too. I've been reading a lot. Mostly the classics."

Cyborg shot him a sidelong glance, and raised an eyebrow at Beast Boy's nonchalance. Then he snorted and punched Beast Boy in the arm, eliciting a grin from the shapeshifter. "More like being the world's greenest midwife," he jeered.

"Heh. I don't know what that word means."

As he thought about it, Cyborg's smile slackened. "Dude, you have been spending a lot of time with Raven, haven't you?"

"Huh?" Beast Boy started the game's match. The loading level gave him a second to glance at Cyborg. "Yeah, I guess."

As the fight started, Cyborg asked, "Why?"

"Huh? 'Why' what?"

"Uh, nothing. It's just…" Cyborg considered his words carefully. "Look, I'm in charge, so I guess I'm all about promoting teamwork. But Raven has a history of, um, finding you annoying. Normally I'd tell you to keep out of her way, especially right now. But you guys are really tight. What happened?"

Beast Boy's ears dipped. He hunched toward the screen, his thumbs clicking over the controller in a blur. "I'unno," he muttered. "What's the big deal?"

"It's not a big deal." Cyborg glanced over. "Dude, it's a good thing, really. I think it's cool that you two can hang out like that."

An undertone of wistfulness lay in Cyborg's words. Beast Boy shrugged, and said, "It's not like that. We don't really pal around or anything. I don't think Raven even knows how to pal around. I'm just trying to help out with a lot of this baby stuff, mostly."

"Oh. Okay."

They played in silence a moment longer. Beast Boy kept glancing over, expecting more from Cyborg. When nothing came, he said, "It's just that, Raven would never ask for help. I think it would honestly kill her. So I'm just trying to pitch in. Give her a shoulder to lean on."

"Sure, dude."

A moment more, and then Beast Boy blurted, "Dude, come on. It's not a big deal. Raven just needs someone to—"

"Gar." Cyborg looked over, confused and concerned. "Are you okay?"

Beast Boy sighed and set aside his controller, not bothering to pause the game. He leaned over his knees, scowling in thought. "It really bothers me, y'know? This whole stupid situation. It just burns me up."

"What? Raven being pregnant?" Cyborg asked warily.

"No." Bitter memory steeped Beast Boy's features, weighing upon them until they sank toward the floor. "That kid's life is gonna be hard enough, and his douche bag of a dad isn't even gonna be around to help him through it."

Cyborg knit his brows. "Dominic not being around is gonna be hard, dude, but c'mon. We'll all be there to help. Raven can handle it."

Beast Boy's face twisted. "She shouldn't have to 'handle' anything."

Chagrinned, Cyborg said, "I didn't mean it like that."

"She shouldn't have to handle anything," Beast Boy shot again. "That kid shouldn't have to handle anything. He deserves a mom 'and' a dad. But now he's gonna have to make due with a friend, or an 'uncle,' or a lawyer."

"A lawyer?" Cyborg said, surprised.

Beast Boy twitched, as if awakening from his diatribe. "I didn't find the Doom Patrol right away, dude. I didn't get to grow up with my parents like you…" His ears drooped once more, and he muttered, "Sorry. I…sorry. I didn't mean that."

Under the watch of Cyborg's surprised concern, Beast Boy squirmed. His chest panged with old wounds torn open again. Heaving a sigh, Beast Boy said, "I love being me, gorgeous green skin and all. Being different is hard, but it's worth it. Except, it didn't always feel that way when I was growing up, y'know? And as much as I love you guys, I would trade all of this in a second, powers and everything, just to have my mom and dad back."

Beast Boy's eyes shimmered. He turned his head, unable to look at Cyborg even from the corner of his eye. "And I feel lousy for feeling like that. But I do. And I know the kid's gonna feel the same way. And Raven…"

Cyborg's great metal hand enveloped Beast Boy's shoulder. Cyborg squeezed, and said, "It's okay. I get it, Gar. We all do."

Sobering, Beast Boy nodded, and took a shaky breath. "I know you do. You know exactly what that's like, don't you, Vic? Getting stared at. People whispering about you when you pass them. The whole room getting quiet when you walk in." He shook his head.

The sudden weight between them lessened, drawing both teens upright on the couch. Beast Boy picked up his controller again, and made a halfhearted attempt to resume the fight. Cyborg tapped his own controller, if only to oblige.

With a wry smile, Cyborg said, "You really think Raven's kid will have it as rough as a shapeshifter or a cyborg?"

Beast Boy frowned. "What? Dude, I meant because you're black. What's so hard about being half-robot?"

Cyborg left his controller dangling in his grasp as he stared at Beast Boy. The shapeshifter's gaze remained focused on the video game, thumbs devoted to his character on-screen. But as Cyborg stared, the concentration on Beast Boy's face broke slowly for a sly smile.

Scoffing, Cyborg punched Beast Boy in the arm again, eliciting a laugh from them both. "You're such a dork," Cyborg said with a snort.

The monkey on the screen obliterated Cyborg's brawler with one final burst of banana-related violence. Pumping his fists, Beast Boy said, "Dorky like a fox."

"Gar, seriously," Cyborg said. "What you're doing for Raven is really cool. Even if she never says it, I know she appreciates it. And you know that kid's never gonna go wanting for anything."

A different smile curled in Beast Boy's lips, one of warmth and humor that eased Cyborg's worry. "Yeah. I know," he said. "He'll have all of you guys, too. If you take care of him the way you take care of me, I know he'll be better than okay." Cocking his brow, he added, "Have we gotten all our feelings out of the way? Seriously, any more heartfelt confessions and we'll be doing each other's toenails."

Cyborg chuckled. "There ain't enough money in the world that'd get me to touch your feet, Salad Head. Do you even own more than two socks?"

"Don't you need special permits for that?" Beast Boy asked, and launched them into another round with a tap of his finger.

* * *

"So I tried on the gold one," Tek said lying propped on her elbows on Ops' floor, "but it was even worse. I looked like a fire pole. I thought about looking for another bra to go with it, but I hate shopping for those alone. Everything looks right in the store mirror, but by the time I get home, it feels like I'm wearing lumpy barbed wire, and then I'm back to wearing sports bras again." She gasped, and looked up from the toenails under her chin. We could go shopping together! Do they wear bras on Tamaran?"

Starfire sat twisted in her seat. Her upper body faced the console and the holographic Alert map, but her chair was turned at an angle, presenting her bare feet to Tek's meticulous brush. Clenching a sigh behind her teeth, Starfire said, "No."

After doing her own nails, Tek had harangued Starfire for well over an hour, until finally dragging Starfire's purple thigh-highs off of her legs without permission, and with only tired, halfhearted protest. Now, nine different colors adorned Starfire's toes, with a tenth being applied to her remaining big toe now. Several painted nails sported tiny, childish stickers of flowers and stars and smiles, which wriggled with Starfire's discomfort.

Tek glanced up at the split metallic straps binding Starfire's chest and shoulders. She blew gently on the blue nail she had just brushed, and said, "Heh. If everybody on your planet looks like you, Victoria's Secret could make a killing there. But you wear them on Earth, right? I mean, not now, obviously. But like that time you dressed up, when you went out with Tim…"

The toes under Tek's care clenched, nearly undoing her work. She looked up and saw Starfire in profile. Even turned, Starfire's face loomed, a glacial wall that chilled Tek with a single look. Her expression brought to Tek the impression of a prison with stone walls that towered, windowless, on a snowcapped cliff side. The gloomy image flitted through Tek, sapping her cheer.

Tek looked down to escape Starfire's stonewall expression. She focused on the golden toes before her, finishing her colorful masterpiece with one last stroke of the nail polish brush. Capping her blue, Tek returned the bottle to her basket and pulled out a bottle of clear polish. "Never mind. We don't need to talk about boys."

She began brushing the clear coat over Starfire's dried nails. Starfire's grave silence gradually broke with the sound of the keyboard. Tek sighed, and painted. As she moved from toe to toe, her brows lowered, eventually crashing together into a frustrated scowl.

Sitting up, Tek said, "I want to be beautiful. I want to look like you did."

Starfire looked up at her admission. Genuine shock broke through her indifference, widening in her eyes. She swiveled her body in her chair to see the defiant perseverance wringing Tek's features.

Tek fought to keep Starfire's gaze without breaking down. Her fists trembled as she said, "When you were with Tim, you had this glow. It was like nothing bad could ever touch you, no matter how heavy things got. Like being in love brought something out of you, something…else. You were beautiful.

"I want to look like that. I want to feel like my heart's a three-ton firecracker that can light up the whole city. I want my smile to fly around the room, just like yours did," Tek said.

Starfire blinked, and shook her head. She twisted her colorful toes back under the console, swiveling around to face her screen fully. "Allie, please," she said. "I do not have time for your foolishness any longer."

"It's not foolish," Tek said, rising to her feet. "I don't know what to look for. Is he interested in me? If I kiss him, will he kiss me back?" Making a face, she added, "I don't even know how to kiss a boy. The mechanics of the whole thing straight-up baffles me. Like, what do I do with my tongue? Or how do I lean in? What was it like when you kissed Tim—?"

Starfire stiffened. She grasped the edges of her console, cracking the plastic casing with the force of her grip. The sharp noise made Tek's questions hiccup, giving way to startled silence.

A slow, cold breath filled Starfire's chest. In a forcibly even tone, she said, "Why would you want to know this? Believe me, you can do without such experiences and maintain a perfectly content existence."

"I don't want to exist," Tek said to the back of her head. "I want to glow. I want to be beautiful.

Starfire's chin tilted down. "You do not know what you want," she murmured.

Tek's voice dropped. "That's how I want you to look again, too. I don't want you to just exist. I want you to be happy. You need to glow again, Kory. Being so cold, so alone…it's hurting you. It hurts all of us."

Starfire stared through her console. For achingly endless seconds, she remained a heavy statue in her seat. But as Tek watched, the golden Tamaranian began to tremble, as though something welled within her. The phantom walls around Starfire cracked under the strain, audible gunshots in Tek's ears that nearly drove her back. Tek stood her ground, waiting, pleading with silence. She saw Starfire begin to turn.

"Good evening," Bushido said, and stepped onto Ops with a ready smile. Both girls jolted at his arrival as he circled the central projector and approached Starfire's console. A capped paper cup hung in his hand, its mouth steaming with the scent of jasmine.

The mounting tension around Starfire stilled. Tek watched her walls rebuild themselves in an instant, even as Bushido walked through them. Glancing at the clock, Starfire stood, looming over Bushido with a cooling expression and hardening eyes. "You are three minutes early," she said.

He bent at the waist in a shallow bow, sweeping his cup in salute. "And you are looking lovely. As are your feet," he said to her bare, painted toes. Tilting his head, he tasted the air with a sniff, and added, "What manner of perfume is that? It is absolutely enchanting."

Starfire rose quickly from her seat. The rough peck of her finger cleared her settings from the central console. "I stand relieved," she said brusquely. She stalked out of Ops without another word. Tek's longing look ricocheted off of the lustrous train of hair that swept in Starfire's wake.

Unknowingly, Starfire carried Bushido's gaze with her all the way to the corner. His twinkling eyes lingered for a moment on her exit. Then he shook his head, and noticed Tek. "Allie, good evening," he said. Glancing down at her bare feet, he asked, "Are we all painting our toes now?"

Tek smiled as he made a show of tightening the belt of fabric at his waist. Retrieving her small basket, she said, "Sorry, Ry. Shop's closed for tonight. You'll have to find some other way of being metrosexual on your own."

"Perhaps a smart haircut, then," he said, and took the central console. His presence triggered a change in the screen, which rearranged itself to suit his preselected preferences.

She ruffled his shaggy hair. "Just don't do it yourself. Big honkin' swords make lousy scissors. G'night."

"Good night."

Tek left Ops with a sigh, sinking into the corridor past Sector Prime's walkway. A sense of fatigue caught up to her halfway to the stairwell, turning her walk into a trudge. The basket weighed heavily in her grasp, and tilted her toward the wall. Disappointment weighed heavier in her chest.

"How did it go?" she heard behind her.

Tek jumped at the soft, rasping voice, and whirled to find Raven's hooded features waiting for her in the corridor's nighttime shadows. Choking down a yelp, Tek grasped her thundering heart, and said, "Sorry. Did you just teleport in?"

Raven's face quirked. "You walked right past me. How did it go?" she asked. She pulled back her hood, opening her cloak with the gesture. An array of shopping bags crinkled in her other hand.

Leaning back against the wall, Tek said, "I managed to get Vic out of the Bay. I can't be sure, but I didn't see him heading back in all night. Far as I can tell, he spent the whole time goofing around with Gar in the Commons."

"Good," Raven said with a nod. "And Starfire?"

Tek's expression soured. "Sorry. No go."

Raven exhaled. "Well," she said, "we'll keep trying. Thank you for your help tonight. I owe you a favor."

As Raven turned, Tek said, "I'll cash that favor now. Why did you text me tonight? Why ask me to trick Vic out of the Bay so he could goof off with Gar? Why ask me to bother Kory? I don't get it."

Raven paused, remembering something. She began digging through one of her shopping bags, and said, "We don't have many quiet nights around here. When we do, it's important to make them count. Victor and Koriand'r are my friends, and it's important to me that they're happy."

"Okay," Tek drawled, watching Raven excavate her purchases. "But why me? You could—"

"I don't make people smile. You do." Straightening, Raven pulled from her larger bags a smaller square bag, which she handed to Tek. "Here."

Taking the bag, Tek pulled back, confused. "Uh, thank you? What's this?"

"Nothing much. I hope you like it," Raven said, and continued down the corridor the way Tek had come.

Tek reached into the bag blindly, her quizzical look planted firmly in Raven's receding cloak. Something cool and metallic pressed into her palm. Pulling it out, Tek found a keychain. "Oh. Uh, thanks. Like I have any keys…" she grumbled.

Attached to the keychain was a miniature version of a California license plate. Tek eyed the plate skeptically. Her snide expression fell when she read the plate's lettering aloud. "Allie," she whispered, and ran her thumb over the tiny plate. She looked up, surprise arresting her lungs. Raven had already left.

"Thank you," she said to the empty corridor.

* * *

The Teen Titans gathered in Ops around the meeting table with unspoken questions hovering between them.

A long, thick window lined the wall, drilled through the rock of the cliff to overlook the ocean. A warm sunset shimmered across the surface of the water, pouring into Ops and over the table as a shaft of luminescence. It fell across Superboy's frown, painting his confusion red as he waited with the others.

Dust lingered thick in the air still since they had carved Ops out of the rock with heat and speed. Superboy recalled using his eyes to bore through the cliff interior, following Robin's design for their command center. Each console and screen had been placed according to the Teen Wonder's instructions.

Now Robin's instructions had gathered the team, and left them waiting over ten minutes. Most of them had gotten little chance to rest since the morning's fight with Tyrants East. With so much left to do to complete the Lair, they were all tired. Even Superboy felt the long hours.

Speedy sighed and tilted his mask toward the stalactite ceiling. The heavy hung lamps flashed in his lenses. "Is it me," he said at the buzzing lights, "or is this place still really depressing?"

"That's what happens when you live underground," Aqualad said, hunching over the table.

The archer shot him a look. "You live at the bottom of the ocean. Isn't that, like, twelve times as dark and dank?"

Aqualad returned his look in kind. "I lived in a palace. This place is a hole."

Knees jittering, Kid Flash looked around. "Yeah, yeah, prince of the sea. We've heard it all before. Where the hell is he? I've got, like, eighty miles of tunnels to smooth out. How is it he's late to his own meeting?"

Grumbling, Aqualad folded his arms. "Well, I was," he muttered.

Ops' hatch split open, and Robin strode into the room. His cape settled back over his shoulders with a sharp gesture as he stood behind his seat at the table. When the others started to rise, he motioned them back into their seats.

"You all have better things to do, so I'll make this quick," Robin said.

Superboy scrutinized Robin's mask, trying to see underneath. He couldn't find anything there, and not because of the lead lining in the thin domino of fabric. But he could tell that something was different. A flicker of hope awoke in Superboy, pulling him to the edge of his seat.

Leaning forward, Robin met each of their quizzical looks. "When I approached each of you, I told you that this venture would test you beyond any limit you ever thought you had. Each of you has acted as a hero in your own right. I told you that you would have to become more than a hero. That you would have to leave behind something of yourself to be part of something bigger.

"Your preconceptions," he said to Wonder Girl.

"Your insecurities," he said to Superboy.

"Your home," he said to Aqualad.

"Your affiliations," he said to Speedy.

"Your impulsiveness," he said to Kid Flash. A smile ghosted across his lips.

Sobering instantly, he continued, "And you've all accomplished far more in an incredibly short amount of time than I could ever imagine. It's been pointed out to me that I haven't acknowledged that. So here it is.

"Cyborg isn't the only authority on Titans. A piece of paper won't make you a team. You've done that yourselves, together. You've made yourselves into Titans, as good as any who have come before you, and more than worthy of setting an example for those yet to come. I'm proud of you."

Snorting, Speedy tilted his chair back on two legs. He smiled, though, as he said, "Go easy on us, Big Bird. You're making me blush."

"I also wanted to let you know," Robin told them, "that I'm resigning from Teen Titans East, effective immediately."

Speedy's chair legs slammed back on the floor as he collapsed forward alongside the rest of the Titans. Their collective gape pressed upon Robin, trying to force further answers out of him.

"I've already changed the codes and reset my administrator access to the mainframe," Robin continued. "All the Lair plans are available in the database. You know where they are. With a little work, you should have Titans Lair fully operational within the month. If you need anything, you can call Cyborg. There's also a list of active honorary Titans who might be willing to pitch in."

Kid Flash slapped the tabletop. "Whoa, dude! Slow down a minute!"

"You're leaving?" Aqualad said. "You can't leave! You're in charge!"

"Fish Breath is right," Speedy insisted. "You can't just cut and bail on us! Where are you even gonna go? Why are you going?"

Robin stepped back. "This is for the best. And it has nothing to do with any of you. I mean it when I say I'm proud to have been a part of this team. Thank you, all of you."

For a half-second, he watched their reactions. Shock reigned at the table, stealing sense and speech from them all. Four jaws and eight eyes hung wide upon him. Superboy pressed his mouth into a tight line, his glare burrowing through the table, refusing to meet Robin's gaze.

Nodding, Robin left the table. Ops' hatch swept open, and then sealed him from the room. He quickened his pace, refusing to look back, even as he heard the hatch open again behind him.

Drawing his cape around him, he traversed the new Lair's corridors as fast as he could. The corridor gathered up the sound of his pace, echoing it back at him, chasing him down with the sound of his own retreat.

He pushed through to the Hangar. His motorcycle waited in the shadow of the East Wing, completed, gassed, and facing the hangar doors, just as he'd left it. The throttle felt cool to the touch, its texture gripping the palm of Robin's glove. He wrapped his hand around the grip and took a deep breath. It left him slowly and shakily.

The Hangar hatch whooshed. Robin circled the bike, pretending to focus all his attention on an unnecessary inspection. "There's nothing left to say, Conner."

"Then don't talk to Conner," Wonder Girl said, snapping Robin's eyes up with surprise as she approached. "Talk to me. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

His surprise submerged at once. Coolly, he returned back to his bike, and said, "I already told you. This has nothing to do with the team."

"It has everything to do with the team," Wonder Girl said. When he refused to look at her, she huffed, and gravitated toward the workbench. "Gods, what is it with you mysterious macho types? Everything has to be about drama with you. You can never just admit when you're being stupid."

"I have my reasons for leaving," Robin said to the bike.

Wonder Girl snorted. "Yeah. I'll bet you do. Bet you have this long speech prepared, about how it's better for the team, and about how we never really needed you in the first place, and how this is better for everybody."

Robin paused, his hands testing the smooth paint across the bike's armor. "It's not a long speech," he said at last. "That was about it, actually. And it's all true."

"It's all crap," she told him. "None of us are here because we 'need' to be here. We all want to be here. That's the whole point."

He didn't answer her, and tapped his fuel gauge instead. Cooling, Wonder Girl looked at the bench on which she leaned, and saw a red helmet marked with Robin's sigil. She picked it up, examining its enamel exterior, testing its visor with her thumb.

"Aren't you even going to pack up your stuff?" she asked the helmet.

The question made Robin look up. After a moment's consideration, he admitted, "I don't actually have anything to pack."

"Wow. That's kind of sad." She watched him mount the bike, his cape settling against the base of the bike's upswept wings. Cradling his helmet under her arm, she risked a step toward him, and said, "Conner is really pissed at you. I think you really hurt him this time."

"He'll get over it," Robin said.

"And what about the rest of us?" insisted Wonder Girl. "What are we supposed to do without you?"

A tinge of amusement laced his monotone. "Since day one, you've criticized the way I do things. This is your big chance to finally do it your way."

She stepped in front of the dormant bike. "Just because I don't always agree with you, it doesn't mean I think you're doing a bad job. You know how to make hard decisions. You shine like a diamond under that kind of pressure," she said. "How are we supposed to make them now that you're running away?"

Robin considered her carefully. "I think you're the best person to answer that. You'll be making those hard choices from now on."

Wonder Girl staggered. "Me? What? No, I'm not—"

"The team will have to put it to a vote," Robin said, "but I made my recommendation in my last monitor log. I think they'll make the right choice."

"But I can't—" Wonder Girl said.

"You're the best person for the job."

"But I don't know how—"

"You'll learn quickly," Robin told her. "But if you're looking for some advice, I do have one piece for you." To her rapt, shocked attention, Robin said, "Stop stringing Conner along. I've seen the way you look at him when his back is turned. Playing hard to get won't net you anything but regret and lost time. If you want to be with him, be with him. Otherwise, break his heart and get it over with."

Slowly, Wonder Girl's shock settled into a smirk. "You say the things that people don't want to hear, too. You're especially good at that. Are you good at hearing them?"

"No." Robin tapped the small control panel set beneath the bike's gauges. The Redbird hummed, brought to life with a growl that rolled under Robin. He kicked its stand back, leaning it on one leg. As he bent to take its handlebars, his helmet intervened, held in hesitant, rough-knuckle hands.

Wonder Girl waited until he took the helmet from her. "Well, listen anyway. Whatever it is you're looking for, I hope you find it soon. Because you need to get over this and back in the game. And for what it's worth…I'm glad I was wrong about you."

He nodded once, and then ducked into the helmet. "Thank you, Wonder Girl."

She smiled as she stepped aside. "My friends call me Cassie. Remember?"

The Redbird roared, leaping forward into a streak of red. It crossed the long floor of the Hangar in a matter of seconds. The heavy doors of the Hangar slid apart with a rumble, revealing the long, split exit tunnel. The bike's taillights vanished up the ramp leading to the cliffs' surface entrance, a wide-mouth cave connected to the highway by a series of old utility roads. In minutes, Robin would be long gone, with only a few black marks on the floor as evidence he had ever been there.

Wonder Girl stared through the closing Hangar doors. The hatch whooshed behind her, and she heard Superboy's voice barrel through from the corridor. "Okay, that's it! You hold it right there, bird-butt, because I…"

Turning around, Wonder Girl saw Superboy stopped dead in his tracks. Realization dawned on his handsome features, rapidly dwindling into disappointment. "I'm sorry, Conner," she said. "You just missed him."

His gaze tilted up as he squinted through solid stone. "He just…left? He really left?"

Wonder Girl rubbed his shoulder. Leaning in, she rested her head on his arm. "It'll be okay, Conner," she said. Silently, she wished she could convince herself of that, and wrapped her arm around his.

"I can't…I can't believe he's gone," Superboy said.

She pulled him back toward the hatch. "C'mon. We should go check with the others. There's a lot we need to talk about. And after that…" She bit her lip, and then said, "After that, would you like to take a flight with me? There's…well, there's a lot 'we' need to talk about."

He frowned, confused. "A flight? Now?"

Wonder Girl affixed a smile over the anxiety creeping up from her stomach. "Don't tell me that invincible skin of yours gets cold on a little night flight. If it gets too chilly, you could always hold my hand…if you wanted to, I mean."

"I…yeah. I guess," Superboy said, and let her lead him away. "But why…?"

"Because," said Wonder Girl. Her smile became real as he squeezed her hand back. She felt a flight of butterflies rush through her stomach, and sighed, "Just because."

* * *

Bushido heard her walk into Ops. He recognized her soft, precise steps, and knew without looking up who had come to visit him. "Still awake? Coffee is a poor choice for an evening drink," he said, keeping his smile aimed at his keyboard as he hunted and pecked across the internet. "You should switch to a weaker—"

"Tea." Raven stepped in front of his console, listing to one side to set her heavy bags on the floor. Her cloak parted for her hands, which set something heavy atop Bushido's console.

The _clink_ of the object made Bushido look up. He saw Raven's stern demeanor, and then focused closer on the thick, ceramic mug perched on his console. The mug's cheery teal presence surprised him. Its heft surprised him more as he picked it up. "…yes. Coffee is a harsh mistress to court at night. Tea is—"

"You're letting my tea go to waste. That's unacceptable," Raven snapped. She picked up her bags with a soft grunt. "I know you've never tried it. It's a…unique blend. And maybe you won't ever like it. But you shouldn't let it go to waste. It shows a lack of regard."

Bushido's smirk faded. He grasped the mug, considering its smooth sheen. "I have a history with herbal teas. Plus, I once held a sword to herbal tea's neck. But I don't see the harm in sharing a cup in the morning, if you don't." Running his finger across the mug's handle, he added, "This is my favorite color."

She nodded, somber. "I know."

As she turned to leave, she felt a wave of gratitude roll off of him. That such a small gift, something she had simply seen out of the corner of her eye that reminded her of him, could make him happy…it amazed her.

But as she considered his happiness, she slowed, and then stopped. Turning, she said, "Ryuko? Those larger gestures you were talking about…the ones that require something in return…you don't think that giving somebody a…a nice gift…like a video game…?"

He set the mug aside, pausing in thought. "A video game? Not being an enthusiast on the subject, I—"

"Ryuko," she said impatiently.

His eyebrow rose at the tremor beneath her voice. "No. I don't believe so," he said. Her shoulders lifted with a light breath of relief, but then froze when he said, "But…"

"But?"

"Doting on someone throughout a difficult period? Say, a pregnancy? That is precisely one of those grand gestures."

Raven held her breath, processing the notion. Her lips drew together into a worried pucker. "You don't actually think he—"

"Consciously?" Bushido shook his head. "No. But ultimately, he will expect something. And I suspect that what he expects, he won't receive. The only thing that remains to be seen, then, is how he will react when he does not receive what he expects," he said.

She blinked. Then she turned, and walked from Ops. "Good night, Ryuko," she said.

"Good night," he called cheerily.

Floating down the hall, Raven came to the stairwell, cloaked in the dark and quiet of the late night in the Compound. Her troubled look hid in her hood, and then became surprise when she saw a tall, lithe ghost at the end of the corridor.

Starfire's silhouette lurked against the starry backdrop of the city. The night's lights made the edge of her skin glow orange and turning her hair into a shadowy bonfire. She hardly moved, leaning against the glass, her shoulders rising and falling with pensive respiration.

Loath to break the peace, Raven floated to a stop halfway to the stairwell. She watched Starfire, and listened, and tasted the tight coil of emotion beneath the alien's surface. Starfire had once been a sun of emotions, shining as brightly as anyone Raven had ever met. Now Raven had to make an effort to peer into Starfire's soul, and what she found inside confounded her for explanation.

As Raven watched, Starfire stirred. Raven feared she had broken Starfire's spell, until she saw the Tamaranian look down at her bare feet. Flickers of color played across Starfire's toes as she moved them through the window's light. To Raven's astonishment, a small, ephemeral smile crept into Starfire's lips, hardly there at all, but there nonetheless.

Beast Boy's voice careened from the stairwell a second before he climbed up into the corridor. His greeting stole Starfire's smile and jolted Raven out of her spell. "Hey, Kory! What's up?"

Starfire abandoned the window and stalked toward the nearest exit, which was, to her dismay, the stairwell. "Nothing," she grunted, brushing past Beast Boy.

Shrugging, Beast Boy watched her disappear down the stairs. His slitted eyes spied the colors on her toes. "Okay. I like your nails," he called after her. He tasted the scent in her wake, and rumbled at its allure. "Nice perfume," he added in a murmur.

Following Starfire led his gaze down the corridor to Raven. He brightened, and approached Raven before she could gather her wits. "Hey! Did you just get back? Have a good time at your coffee place?" he asked.

"Yes," she said distractedly.

He sniffed, and smiled. "Decaf. Excellent. Oh, and thanks for the game. Vic says thanks too. I haven't had that much fun since that time I taught myself how to use the blender 'cause I wanted an asparagus smoothie. You know, I bet if we called the Tyrants and asked, they could still find that stain on the —"

Raven's bags dropped to the floor. She stepped forward suddenly. Her arms ensnared him, surprising them both as she drew herself to his chest. Her brow rested on his warm uniform, her head tucked under his chin, as she closed her eyes against the buzz of surprise running through them both.

"Thank you," she murmured.

It took Beast Boy's mouth and brain three tries to properly connect. "You're welcome? You…You're hugging me. You are hugging me, right? This isn't part of some spell where you send me to a dimension made entirely out of elevator music, is it?"

Raven felt the blare of his emotions roiling across her psychic walls. She weathered the silent storm, and said, "It's customary to hug back."

His arms encircled her. She felt her stomach pressed between them, cradled in their embrace. A soft voice stirred her hair. "So, why the hug? Not that I mind or anything, but…"

His pulse quickened under her ear. His fingertips traced faint lines down her back. Deep in the storm, Raven heard a whisper, one she knew Beast Boy couldn't hear, one she knew she could never answer.

Raven suppressed a sigh. "Because," she said. "Just because."

**To Be Continued**


	33. Technis: Conjecture

_Disclaimer_

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

* * *

The canister sat, waiting with a diligence that many containers would envy.

Years before, during the last full Archives inventory, a clumsy researcher had bumped the canister off of its shelf without realizing it. The canister had rolled, and eventually come to rest under a shelf, out of sight and out of mind. Its presence went unregistered in the inventory, and thus, it had been lost.

But the canister did not despair. It was of sturdy construction, hermetically sealed with three layers of redundancy protection. Its nonconductive alloys could withstand any blunt trauma, as well as most known energies. The canister could survive an indirect atomic blast with only minimal carbon scoring to show for it, and that would buff right out. It was a very well-constructed canister, and proud of it. It could wait forever, if need be.

Discovery of the canister came much sooner than forever, though. Three years later, during the Archives' annual inventory, a particularly diligent research assistant—much more diligent than the oaf that had dislodged the canister from its shelf—happened to look under the shelf. She did so for reasons completely unknown, mysterious reasons for which the canister did not care, because her attentions led her to discover the canister under the shelf.

The researcher retrieved the canister from under the shelf, and brushed clear the very light coating of dust. She took a moment to marvel at the canister's design, or so the canister assumed. Then, armed with her pocket scanner, she scanned the canister's barcode into the system and discovered her predecessor's error.

Elation filled the canister, or would have, were its contents not still hermetically sealed and protected by its very excellent design. It left the Archives, passed between hands, up the chain of command, until it reached the Research Administrator's office. And there, the Administrator called a colleague, another administrator on the other coast, boasting about how he had found the canister—which of course, he hadn't, as the research assistant had been the one to discover the canister, which the canister knew full well, but was too polite to say while the Administrator was on the phone.

By the Administrator's reactions, the canister could tell that the Administrator's colleague was excited to know that the canister had been found. But who wouldn't be excited to know of the canister's re-discovery? The canister couldn't imagine.

After all, within the canister's four layers of nonconductive, sealed alloys, there rested contents with the power to rewrite the very definition of life. What the canister contained would, years later, kill thousands of people as it very nearly ended the world. In the immediate future, the contents would ruin one life and empower another greatly.

And at the moment, beyond even the realization of the excellent canister, its contents—now scanned into the inventory of S.T.A.R. Labs' Metropolis Archives—were made aware to an unscrupulous third party, who would make the canister and its contents his own, by whatever means he deemed necessary.

But who could blame him? The canister couldn't. Who wouldn't covet such a finely crafted canister?

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Technis**: _Conjecture_

"The ultimate step in next-generation warfare requires a new degree of ruthlessness," Ravager said.

He stood in Ops, bedecked in his two-tone armor and bereft of his helmet. His gauntlet ran across the smooth, metallic casing of an apparatus that dwarfed him and every other Teen Tyrant in Ops. The massive, egg-shaped apparatus sat motionless and silent, exuding a chill that sapped the sun-dappled command center of all warmth.

Gathered around him, the remaining Tyrants regarded Ravager's strange apparatus with a mix of disdain and confusion. Jinx and Shimmer supplied the former end of the spectrum, and a trio of Billys occupied the latter. Blackfire stood between them all with an air of boredom about her.

Pressing a hidden control, Ravager opened his apparatus. Its casing split at hidden seams, ratcheting into a segmented shell. A network of circuitry and large, bulbous components lay beneath the shell, all surrounding a core of spherical metal.

Ravager knelt next to the core. His calculating smile spread across its surface in reflection. "The problem with the Information Age is that it's resulted in jaded targets. Bombs scare people, but they don't draw attention like they used to. Buildings can be rebuilt. Victims are mourned and forgotten. Oh, the impact is still there, but personal. To truly frighten the masses, you need to go a step further."

Blackfire unhinged her jaw for a yawn. "So you've built a bigger bomb. It's cute. A little clunky, but I suppose you people can only do so much with what you've got at hand."

"Let me guess," Shimmer sneered. "You're finally going to blow up those blasted Titans once and for all by planting that monster somewhere in their stupid Compound."

Ravager matched her sneer with one of his own. Drawing a remote from his belt, he activated the window monitor, summoning a floor-to-ceiling map of Jump City. "No. This will be planted at the exact center of the city, several miles away from the Titans' insipid little base, in the dead of night, without ever alerting them."

The revelation broke Jinx's icy silence. She unfolded her arms, and said, "You're going to blow up the entire city?"

"Weren't you listening?" he snapped. "Blowing them up will just kill them. I'm going to annihilate them and everything they stand for with the push of a button."

Scratching his heads, Billy harmonized with his selves, "Uh, how?"

"By preserving them forever exactly as they are," Ravager said to a chorus of bewilderment. "This, people, is no bomb. This is a Chronoton Detonator. It is a spatial engine capable of destroying the very fabric of time throughout the city. Using this, we will forever freeze the Titans and their fawning protectees, creating a living graveyard that can never be undone."

The forced boredom slipped off of Blackfire's face. Lifting her eyebrow, she said, "That's actually kind of cool. It takes a little gumption to screw with space-time like that. I guess you're finally getting serious here."

Jinx twisted her entire face with her opinion of the plan. "You're going to time-nuke an entire city just to kill six people? I don't know if that's stupid, or just lazy. Besides, there are stores I like in that city. And people there who owe me money."

"Take a pill, bubblegum," Shimmer said, surprising Jinx with her sudden reversal. The wiry girl stepped forward and ran her hand across the Detonator's casing. Her leather straps swelled with an excited gasp. "This is our chance to finally do some real damage. No more pussy little plans. Everybody's gonna know who we are when we take an entire city and turn it into one big sculpture."

"Exactly," Ravager crowed, running his hand next to hers. He cast a snide look meant for Jinx over his shoulder, one she readily mirrored. "By tomorrow morning, the only words on America's lips will be 'Teen Tyrants.' We'll be launched into the national spotlight with the push of a button."

Billy Numerous examined the Detonator with three sets of eyes and one shared, worried expression. "Uh, boss? Are you sure this is such a good idea?" one Billy piped in.

"Yeah," another Billy said. "I mean, what's this gonna do to the rest of the universe when we blow time up in just one spot?"

A third Billy rubbed his jaw as he peered between the Detonator's segmented casing. "Seems to me it'd be like grabbing one thread off the shirt of some guy runnin' by you. The thread stays still, and the rest of the shirt unravels into just a mess of thread, and you wind up with a naked guy. Only in this case, 'stead of a naked guy, you've got a universe full of shredded time."

Ravager glared at the Billys, and snapped, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Professor Numerous. I didn't realize you were an expert on temporal physics, or else I would have consulted you on the Detonator's effects. Why don't you go fetch the chronological tuner phalange from the basement, and we can continue discussing your fascinating theory." When the Billys tried to protest, he said, "No, no, I insist. Go get it. Go. Go! And be prepared to discuss your absolutely fascinating theory without the aid of colorful, folksy metaphor when you get back."

Ushered out by Ravager's biting eyes, the Billys shuffled out of Ops, merging together into a single, gangly boy. "Just don't wanna get time-janked, is all," he muttered under his breath before the doors closed.

He stuffed his hands in his bodysuit's pockets and grumbled all the way down to the Tower's basement. Sliding down the stair's rails, he slipped between the stacks of boxes toward the back of the room, where stray pieces of casing were propped against the wall amidst a slew of discarded tools and components.

"I watch the Discovery Channel, y'know," he muttered, and picked through the scattered tools for something resembling the Technicolor emitting adjustment phalanx Ravager had sent him to retrieve. "I'm plenty smart. Smart enough to worry 'bout raping the fabric of time-space, or whatever, y' smartass dumb fu—"

The sound of creaking metal and grinding stone made Billy stop. He looked up, and then scrambled backwards as the wall in front of him shifted into itself, hollowing a rectangular section of concrete half again as tall as he was and three times as wide, which slid aside.

Tremendous metal blast doors lay five feet beneath the wall, unveiled by the moving concrete. Though scorched, the doors still bore a circled T sigil between its seam. As Billy watched in bewilderment, the sigil split, and the doors opened. A warm, thick fog of smoke rolled through the opening, chasing him back several steps.

"What in tarnation?" Billy thundered.

A horned silhouette manifested in the smoke, coughing. As it walked forward, it took shape, becoming a monster. Short black tusks jutted from the creature's forehead. Its skin glistened with a shade so crimson that it seemed to glow in the basement's faint lighting. White hair flowed down from the monster's crown, spilling across its wiry musculature and down to its chain belt and black leggings.

Splitting its fanged mouth, the monster rasped with a guttural spray of sound that drained the blood from Billy's face. Then the monster leaned upon its knees and coughed. "Whew," it said in a boyish voice. "I think that elevator could use some TLC. Motor was coughing up smoke the whole ride up."

Billy stopped dead at the cheery, jovial voice emerging from such a horrific monster. "What in hell are you?" he stammered.

The monster looked around, confused. "Me? I'm Kid Devil. And you're a Teen Tyrant. You are a Tyrant, right? It would be super-embarrassing if we wound up in the secret entrance to the wrong evil lair."

Two occurrences struck Billy, dissolving his fear. The first was that this so-called devil didn't act so much like a devil, appearances notwithstanding. The second was that it had appeared out of a set of hidden doors bearing the Titans' sigil.

One Billy became five in the blink of an eye. The quintet raised their fists to the smoke-teared demon as the centermost of them snapped, "Well, I don't know how you got down wherever that door leads, but buddy, y'all are leaving in a body bag."

"Maybe a bunch of 'em!" another Billy jeered.

The leftmost Billy then stopped to think, considering Kid Devil's smug, diabolic expression. "Waitaminute," he said, scowling. "What do y'all mean, 'we?'"

Kid Devil grinned as he laced his hands behind his head. "Well, I sure didn't mean 'we' in the royal sense, Math Man."

Two pinpricks of green shone through the rolling smoke behind Kid Devil. One Billy peered hard, leaning forward to pierce the haze and see who they faced. He squinted, and strained, until at last he saw pupils lurking in the green spots, which hovered in the silhouette of a face.

Contact.

A ribbon of flesh-colored smoke streamed out of the hidden doors. It struck the straining Billy in his goggles, pouring through the tinted material while he screamed, clawing at his face. His other selves cried and multiplied, surging around him to help as the last of the fleshy smoke vanished into him.

"Billy!" another Billy sobbed, cradling the limp duplicate. "Billy, what did they do to you?"

The limp Billy suddenly stiffened. He thrust his fist through his other's face, shattering the visor with a spray of plastic and blood. The troupe of Billys backed away at once as their stricken brother arose into a whirlwind of fists and feet.

"Billy!" he cried, even while he swung through the jaw of another of his selves. "Billy, y' gotta help me! I'm not doin' this! I mean, I am, but I'm not! This ain't me!"

Waves of compressed sound screamed out of the secret doors, cutting through the smoke in short blue bursts. Each burst punched a Billy in the chest, knocking him back through the stacks of boxes in the basement. As the Billys rallied against the blue streams, flashes of green brilliance joined in, hammering through the duplicates with burning, devastating force.

Billy doubled again and again, struggling to maintain numbers to stand against the mysterious energies pouring out of the doors. "Y'all can't stop me!" he screamed. "I'm Billy Numerous!"

The smoke parted again for another set of horns. These were long, sharp, and hooked, attached to the bristling scalp of a furious, long-faced minotaur. The enormous creature snorted, lowering his head as he drove into the burgeoning crowd of Billys. He bowled a dozen of them fully off their feet, tossing them with a sweep of his horns, or batting them aside with hands the size of hubcaps.

All the while, the blue and green fury poured out of the smoke, slapping down Billy duplicates as quickly as they could manifest. As their doubling numbers dwindled, Billy sent his selves in a desperate dash through the energy, sacrificing half of his selves against the silent minotaur. Only the wiry demon stood between them and their attackers in the smoke, who would soon learn that it didn't pay to fight a one-man army.

"Move outta the way, Red! 'Less y'all wanna get trampled!" Billy jeered.

Kid Devil smirked. His shoulders rose with a deep breath. Then he split his fangs for a furious roar. White fire leapt from his mouth, making the air quake with heat, and overwhelming the basement with the stench of brimstone. The fire clung to the floor, leaping high and hot, and forcing the Billys to scramble back or be immolated.

The energies shot, and the fires raged, and the minotaur stomped them into the ground, and the traitorous duplicate beat them down, wailing all the while. In seconds, Billy reached his duplicating limits. He tried splitting again to stop the minotaur's charge, and watched the world go black as his head struck the floor.

Cyborg emerged from the secret doors, wearing a shroud of dissipating smoke. His sonic cannon hummed at his side as he took stock of the floor, which was thick with unconscious Billys. "Wildebeest, Jericho, you guys okay?" he asked brusquely.

Only one remained standing, the one that had turned unwillingly against his cohorts. The body-jacked Billy gasped, and cried, "Y'all? I should've known you low-down skunks would—"

His fist hammered his own jaw, knocking his head to the side. He staggered, falling silent. Then he rose sharply, shaking off the blow. When he spoke, not a trace of his usual drawl remained. "Okay here, Cy. But something tells me these yokels were the easy ones," the Billy said, speaking for Jericho.

Wildebeest, the great minotaur, crossed his arms and snorted with derision at his littered foe. At Cyborg's questioning look, he nodded and grunted.

Behind Cyborg, the smoke parted again, this time for a figure cloaked in dark blues followed, twirling a golden horn. The horn blower balked at the sheer number of Billys. "This was the easy part? I thought the plan was hard enough when you mentioned slipping in through some secret Omega kerfuffle door, or whatever," said Herald.

Starfire pushed him aside to walk across the Billys, little caring where her feet fell. Moans and grunts arose from her footfalls. "We are wasting time. One of them could have alerted the rest of the Tyrants. We should proceed."

Tapping the panel on his arm, Cyborg said, "Team Two? Are you guys in position?"

A strained, feminine voice filtered through his comm, "_Team Two is ready to—eek! Whoa! —ready to go, Cy._"

Cyborg frowned, and brought his forearm to his lips. "Tek? You okay?" he murmured.

A string of venomous words barked from his comm, all in a language Cyborg didn't understand. Then Tek's voice returned, shaking. "_I must be really bad at this. Ry never curses in Japanese anymore._"

"Go in T-minus thirty seconds, on my mark. Fast and hard. No stupid risks. Okay?" Cyborg said.

"_Just the regular risks then, got it._"

"Mark." Cyborg lowered his arm and motioned to the others. His cannon pulsed, painting his wicked smile blue. "Okay, guys. Let's get evicting," he said.

The Titans charged up the stairs, climbing level after level in the appropriated Tower with tremulous haste. Despite Starfire's grim prediction, the alarms remained silent. Cyborg thanked providence for such a small favor, knowing full well what kind of security measures the Tower's interior could level against them. He prayed for another moment of good luck as he launched himself through the door of Ops with his cannon at the ready.

Crumpling, the metal leaves of the door flew into the room, bowled aside by Cyborg's shoulder. Cyborg followed them in, ducking low to avoid a wave of starbolts that scattered the surprised Tyrants.

Sonic blasts chased Ravager across the floor. He sprung ahead of Cyborg's fire, groping for the swords on his back. "You!" he snarled.

"Sorry it took so long, Ravvy," Cyborg said, aiming through a furious glare as he tracked Ravager with his cannon. "I had to call some friends. Mind if we crash here for a while?"

Wildebeest hurtled Cyborg's broad shoulders with an effortless jump and landed in a charge. He lowered his horns at the closest target, the silver-clad Blackfire, and put his entire tremendous mass behind his horns.

His freight-train force spun at Blackfire's backhand. She batted Wildebeest aside, throwing the massive Titan into a bank of computers in the wall. Delicate components spilled into fragments from the sideways crater his body carved as Blackfire sneered, "Crash all you want, Cyborg."

An inhuman roar startled Blackfire into the air. She turned her head, and caught golden knuckles on her chin. Starfire twisted into the blow, driving her sister's face deep into the floor, where it caved her likeness into the metal plating. Wordlessly, Starfire grasped Blackfire's black hair and wrenched her out of the floor, throwing the Tyrant through the air. With another battle cry, Starfire rushed after her, lashing Blackfire mercilessly with a luminous barrage.

Cyborg watched the family spat from the corner of his eye, and cringed. Then he glanced at the rest of the room, taking stock of the fight. Herald and Jericho worked at Wildebeest's arms to pry the great bruiser out of the computer wall, while Kid Devil breathed hellfire at Shimmer as fast as the Tyrant could transmute enough water to suppress him. The resultant steam swam through Ops, quickly obscuring the fight in a dangerous, sweltering mist.

His circuits screamed with sudden pain that brought him to his knees and danced in his optics as pink sparks. Every system in his body reset, rebooted, or outright faltered, choking him in error messages. Wheezing, he mechamorphed his cannon into a hand and clutched his throbbing head with a cry.

"I've been feeling a little frustrated lately," Jinx whispered in his ear from behind. Her fingertips rested at the small of his back, pumping hex into his chassis. Her magic spilled out of his capacitors, raining from his red optic like pressurized pink tears. "But I bet you understand frustration, considering you've got nothing under the hood."

Cyborg muttered, his words lost amidst the crackle of Jinx's power and the grinding of his own components. Scowling, Jinx leaned down and doubled the hex poured into his body, until his scream became a choked squeak. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," she purred. "Could you speak up?"

Struggling against his own faltering muscles, Cyborg turned his head. His lips convulsed into a fierce grin. Through his teeth, he grunted, "…thirty…mississippi…"

Ops window exploded inward, raining shrapnel into the battle. Titan and Tyrant alike ducked against the spray, and then watched the window fill with vibrant silhouettes that cut through the steam.

Riding on columns of heat that jetted from his fists, the glowing Hotspot rocketed into Ops. "Aw yeah, Titans!" he crowed, and threw a pillar of fire that flanked Shimmer, forcing her to double her transmutational efforts.

Silver flashed through the steam as Argent cut in. "Oi! Shag bag!" she barked, and pushed a wave of force from her fingertips. A silver lance streaked across the battlefield and into Jinx's face, belting her off of Cyborg. Lilac sparks trailed behind Jinx's scream as she tumbled back.

Cyborg shambled back to his feet, forcibly rebooting his systems. As he shook the static from his optics, he saw another silhouette breaking through the steam with a blade in hand. The thick curtain parted for Ravager, who leapt with his saber held high, bellowing murder at the top of his lungs. It was all Cyborg could do to catch the blade on his arm, sacrificing his communicator to Ravager's death stroke while his strength returned.

Grinding his blade into Cyborg's arm, Ravager snarled, "You made a mistake coming here, you cadaverous clanker! I was going to turn you into a timeless statue. Now I'll rip out your circuitry and—"

A buzzing mote flew between their stalemate, landing on Cyborg's split arm. Ravager's eyes crossed to focus on the mote, which wore a striped black and yellow bodysuit, and brandished curved weaponry. Then a flash of gold uncrossed his eyes with devastating force, pile-driving his face away from Cyborg, and leaving his sword stuck in Cyborg's arm.

Bumblebee buzzed off of Cyborg's arm. She grew to full size next to him, holstering her blasters with a smug gesture. "Happy to see us, steel cheeks?" she asked, and slapped his ass playfully.

The last of Cyborg's systems purged Jinx's chaos. He straightened, fighting to keep his embarrassment from reaching his face. "Thrilled." Searching the steamy battle, he added, "Where are—?"

A pitching wail answered Cyborg. He looked to the window in time to see the wall next to it cave in, wrecked by a ball of white armor that rode glowing, blue-white thrusters. The thrusters darkened as the ball bounced through Ops, smashing through Starfire and a dazed Blackfire before it slumped to a halt against the Chronoton Detonator in the center of the room.

Tek unfurled woozily, revealing Bushido curled fetally against her stomach. The swordsman hopped off of her and drew his sword, staggering his first few steps as his inner ear struggled to catch up to his new surroundings. "Never again," he told Tek.

"Stop complaining," she groaned, and braced herself to her feet with the Detonator's help. "I'm going to get better at it."

"Never again," he swore.

A sudden, shrill whine emerged from the Detonator, startling Tek's armored hand off its casing. Beeping, flashing, the Detonator's components hummed to life. The air tingled with an electrified charge, making the steam glisten. The battle in Ops ceased in a heartbeat as the Titans and Tyrants stared in horror at the Detonator's activation. Then a low chuckle permeated the room, drawing all eyes to its source.

Ravager stood at the edge of the jagged window. A detonator trembled in his hand, its red button mashed into the device's casing. "It's almost fitting, isn't it?" he asked Cyborg in a ragged voice. "Now this struggle between us really will be endless."

"What did you do, Grant?" Jinx howled.

As the steam cleared, Cyborg clearly saw the whirring apparatus, and froze. Naked horror unhinged his jaw. "No," he whispered.

Stumbling woozily, a single Billy Numerous traipsed into Ops, rubbing his head and the army of collective aches with which it throbbed. "Wh…what did I miss?" he moaned.

Laughter nipped at the underside of Ravager's throaty voice. Wide-eyed, he beamed at Cyborg, and cackled, "You and I, Titan, locked forever in mortal combat, waiting for the rest of time to cease. An ending fit for the Bard's finest villain, don't you think? Get ready for existence to unravel around you as—"

A sneeze thundered through Ops, stirring the lingering steam with a green flash of light. The emerald sneeze holed the Detonator, piercing its spherical, chromium heart in one blow. With a groan, the Detonator wound down, slumping back into its casing. Its melting components clicked against one another until finally its power dwindled to nothing.

Ravager watched the scorched metallic chromium core of his apparatus roll across the floor, misshapen by the heat of the sneeze. It skipped over the edge of the window frame and fell. Aghast, he whirled his glare at Starfire, who wiped at her nose.

"That is one hell of a huff-and-puff," Argent murmured in astonishment.

"Allergies," Starfire grunted, and sniffed.

Terrible wind swept through Ops, emanating from the inside wall. Jinx commanded the air with outthrust hands, bowling the Titans off their feet. As Cyborg struggled to lock onto the witch with any one of his weapons, he realized her true intent, but too late.

Jinx ran for the window even as Ravager succumbed to the force of the wind. It swept him through the jagged opening, and carried him into the sky. Summoning a greater gale, Jinx lifted them both through the air, billowing higher and higher while the Titans reeled in her wake.

Seizing the moment, Blackfire swept upstream through the gale, grabbing Billy and Shimmer in bone-rending grasps. Her payloads complained loudly in her hands, all to deaf ears as she shot out the window and chased after Jinx and Ravager.

Cyborg barreled to the window, his shoulders splitting to reveal stun missiles primed for launch. But as he reached the gaping edge, a wall of fire descended from the air to fill the window. Errant violet bolts pierced the fire, splashing the carpeted floor with char.

He grabbed Argent and Hotspot out of the air before their pursuit carried them into the flames. Shimmering heat chased him back from the window with the pair in tow. When the sudden flames waned, he peered through the thick air, and scowled at a distant speck dwindling toward the horizon.

"We can still catch 'em!" tiny Bumblebee squeaked, and shot forward.

Cyborg stopped her with a hand twice as big as she was. "No," he grunted, hating himself for calling off the chase. "If we chase them, who knows where they'll lead us. With that kind of lead they could take the fight someplace ugly, like a populated area."

"Besides, we only have two fliers that can actually carry anyone," Bushido piped up. With a furtive glance at Tek, he added, "And only half of those fliers are proficient. The Tyrants would have the advantage in the air, despite our numbers."

"Love you too," Tek grumbled tinnily.

Padding barefoot across the floor, Kid Devil said, "So, what? 'Next time, Gadget?' That's it?"

Starfire recoiled from his approach. Tension drew across her face, making her voice tight. "The Tyrants no longer have a base of operations. Any plans they might have had will be severely hindered."

"Kory's right," Cyborg said. He leaned against the neutered Detonator, glancing through its innards to confirm its inactivity. "Being on the run is gonna hurt them a lot. Ravager's impatient, and he'll get desperate. That's when he'll make a mistake."

He looked up from the Detonator. The knot in his chest eased as he glanced around the scarred, warped visage of Ops. Beneath the battle damage, he recognized the distinctive features of the room, but each of them altered from his recollection of their former home. The computers along the wall, the mismatched appliances in the kitchen, the gunmetal carpet, and the harsh rivet-work in the walls taunted him. It was as though he were looking at a memory through a funhouse mirror.

Seeing the Titans, honorary and otherwise, standing once more in the house they had abandoned felt right. It didn't matter so much that the Tyrants had gotten away. Cyborg felt as though they had done something much more, that they had saved an old friend, one who had been in need of help too long.

Planting his hands on his hips, Cyborg smiled at the Titans, and said, "Besides, there are things more important than catching bad guys."

* * *

"Azarath…Metrion…Zinthohhhhhhhh…"

Beast Boy looked up with a scowl. "Would you knock that off already? You're making me nervous with that mantra crap. Just sit back and stop fidgeting."

He knelt before the couch in the Compound's Commons with Raven's bare feet filling his gloves. Their swollen, ashen flesh rolled beneath his touch. Behind him, the enormous television blared with the drama of network soap operas, which Raven couldn't escape no matter how many channels she surfed.

Craning her neck, Raven looked over her mountainous stomach to glare at Beast Boy. Her navel protruded through a gap between tattered flannel pajama pants and an old Green Lantern T-shirt that, even after repeated washings, still smelled of wet dog to Raven. "I didn't ask you to do that," she groused, and swept stringy hair out of her eyes.

"Don't start that again," he snapped, and worked circles into her soles with his thumbs. "Your feet hurt. Look at them. If they get any bigger, California's gonna need two new zip codes." As she opened her mouth for a retort, he added, "And don't try to deny it. I've seen you floating around everywhere. Your shoes don't even fit anymore, do they?"

Irritation flashed in Raven's eyes and grumbled out her lips. She wiggled the foot not in Beast Boy's grasp, and grumped, "I have cankles."

He grinned and worked his hands over Raven's arch. "Yeah, you do."

She gnashed her teeth. The fluorescent light overhead flickered, and then darkened with a _pop_. "You of all people should appreciate my need to meditate. It keeps my subconscious from lashing out at the 'little irritants' around me," she growled.

"First off, there's nothing little about my irritant. Just ask Tara," Beast Boy grunted, and wrung Raven's bulbous ankle between his palms. "And second, I'm a big supporter of light bulbs. But you can meditate on your own time. Right now, you're at Salon de la Garfield, and your masseuse wants you to relax and eat your breakfast."

Raven glanced at the plate beside her on the couch, little knowing where to start. "Half-toasted Pöp Tortes hardly qualifies as a breakfast. And furthermore…"

She trailed off as his words ran through her mind for a second time. Beast Boy began working the folds of her other foot, oblivious to the surprise that dawned in her face. She watched him work, his hands deft, his face a mask of concentration, with a barely audible song hummed at the back of his throat.

"Did you just make a joke about Terra?" she asked softly.

"Hmm?" Beast Boy looked up distractedly. When he saw her face, he realized what she had asked. His hands fell away from her feet as he blinked in surprise, tilting his head with thought. "Wow. I guess I did," he uttered.

Raven slid her feet out of his lap, curling them under her legs on the couch. With great effort, she leaned forward, her hand hesitating above his shoulder. "Are you… Are you all right, Garfield?" she asked.

Her voice broke his reverie. Shaking his head, he shoved a grin into his fangs, and said, "Sure. No, yeah, I'm fine. It just kind of caught me off-guard, y'know? I guess I hadn't really thought about her in a while."

"You've been a little occupied," Raven said.

Snickering, Beast Boy rested his glove over her swollen navel. "You're one to talk."

His faux smile faded as she placed her hands atop his. "Don't do that," she told him. "Don't shrug it off with one of your stupid jokes. I know how much she meant to you."

Beast Boy tried to drop his eyes, but Raven's gaze refused to let him go. She drew him in with unseen, unshakable strength, waiting patiently for him to speak. Her skin felt cool as her fingers curled around his. He had never seen her so insistent, so earnest.

"It doesn't hurt as much anymore," he admitted. "I don't…I'm not really sure if that's good or bad, but it isn't…it doesn't hurt." As her hands closed around his, he found himself squeezing back. "I don't know what it is, but hanging out with you, Raven…it's…"

The barest hint of a smile lifted Raven's lips. Beast Boy hardly recognized the gesture before her face straightened again. "Who would ever have thought that you and I would be kindred spirits?" she mused, and cocked her brow. "Both of us hurt and betrayed…both of us changed…"

She gently exorcized her hand from his. Tentatively, she ran her palm across his cheek, cupping his face in fascination. His features were sculpted, even handsome. But Raven saw past that to the little boy she had met just a few short years ago. Her ethereal sight saw much deeper. She knew just how beautiful Beast Boy truly was.

Spellbound by her touch, Beast Boy could only think to say, "Sorry I said you had cankles."

Raven's eyes warmed. She traced the edge of his pointed ear in an affectionate, unconscious gesture. "I do have cankles," she said. "Don't ever apologize to me for being honest."

Then she clipped him upside the head. The glancing blow knocked his face aside. He yelped and rubbed his scalp as she pulled away and reclined on the couch once more. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You said I have cankles," Raven said darkly. "If you can't be nice **and** honest, then you should just be quiet."

"But you…you just… Oh, skip it." He shook his head with an annoyed laugh, and knelt back down at her feet. Taking up the other foot, he worked his thumbs into her arch, and said with a dirty smirk, "If I couldn't win an argument with you when you were skinny and reasonable, then I don't have a snowball's chance now."

"What did I just say?" she said, and sank back into the couch.

"Right. As if you were ever reasonable…"

The doorway of the Commons came alive with a laughing, chattering crowd. Beast Boy heard it and Raven felt it, prompting them to rise as the rest of the Titans trickled into the room in twice their usual numbers.

"Break out the bubbly, y'all," Bumblebee crowed, and checked the refrigerator open with her hip. She dug through the fridge's door and came out with an armload of canned soda, which she tossed one by one.

Kid Devil fumbled with his can. "I wouldn't get too bubbly," he said. "This isn't exactly a wrap on the Tyrants." When he pulled the can's tab, soda gushed out of its mouth, hosing him with brown froth.

Silvery laughter made his face even redder. Argent draped herself across Kid Devil's shoulders, reaching around him to open her own soda. "Bin that bollocks, Eddie. Anybody who can walk out of a row like that without a mark to show for it should count himself as one jammy bit of stuff," she said, and tapped his nose with her can.

"I agree with Toni…at least, I'm pretty sure I do," Tek said, and lifted her own can with a nod to Argent. "Ravager's bunch is on the run, and nobody got hurt. We should live it up while we can."

"'Fraid that won't be too long," Hotspot said. The cooled, mahogany sculpt of his face pulled back for a smile as he cracked open his soda. "It was fun pitching in for the day, but I have to get back home. I don't like to be away for too long."

Herald clapped Hotspot's shoulder. "Just wetting my whistle, Sparky. Then I'll blow everybody back to where they belong as quick as you can think it." He patted the silver horn hanging at his hip.

"Better watch who you offer to blow, Mal," Bumblebee teased, earning a snort from Wildebeest and a silent chortle from Jericho.

Beast Boy approached the laughing crowd with a toothy grin. "How goes, Team Titans?" he said.

"Beast Boy! Missed you at the big fight," Hotspot said, and traded high-fives with the shapeshifter.

"Took a sick day. My stomach has been acting up something fierce," Beast Boy said, and rubbed his midsection. "I looked up my symptoms on WebMD, and it turns out that I either have food poisoning or ovarian polyps. I wasn't sure what polyps were, so I figured I should take it easy for the day just to be safe."

Resting her chin on Kid Devil's shoulder, Argent watched Raven lurch after Beast Boy. "No guesses as to why you stayed behind, love," she quipped.

"Apparently I'm on the inactive roster from now on," Raven groused, bracing her back with her hands. "Which is patently ridiculous. I'm barely finishing my first trimester."

"For a human baby, maybe," Beast Boy countered. "I told Raven if she didn't take it easy until the baby came, I was gonna start calling her the 'Hinden-bird.'"

Then he sniffed the air, staggered silent by a tantalizing scent. His nose tugged at his gaze until both were aimed across the room. Hidden in Wildebeest's long shadow, Starfire stood hunched against the doorframe. Her arms were wrapped around her midsection as though she were cold. Concentration wrought her face with tiny creases, and a heavy weight drew her chin toward her chest.

But there was something else about her, something that Beast Boy couldn't quantify. Each time he thought to look away, he found that he couldn't. His gaze roamed the lines of her golden body and scant lilac armor, growing hungrier with each inch of her it devoured. His chest rumbled with an approving sound too low to be heard by normal ears.

"Kory?" Beast Boy floated toward her, tractored by her scent. She jerked at hearing her name, and glanced up in surprise as he slid next to her on the wall. "Hey. What are you doing over here all by yourself?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, and shrank back from Beast Boy's presence. Her arms trembled as she drew them tighter around herself. The tension in her face tightened until the skin around her mouth threatened to snap.

Beast Boy watched her fight to control her breathing. The rise and fall of her bound chest warmed his smile. Rumbling again, he reached out and brushed her arm. "You know, you don't always have to be so alone. You should hang out with us," he said. In a low purr, he added, "You should hang out with me."

His touch made her skin jump, as if his glove were electric. Her breath deepened, and her pupils flexed. She fell into Beast Boy's lustrous stare, her lips trembling as she fumbled for a response.

Halfway across the room, Raven lent a small fraction of her attention to the baby questions bombarded upon her by the honorary Titans. Her eyes hung on the isolated world next to the Commons' door, where Beast Boy and Starfire drew closer, somehow alone in a room full of people. Potent emotion roiled off of the pair, feelings strong enough to rock Raven's inner core.

At first, Raven didn't believe what her inner eye sensed. It felt like such a ridiculous notion. But as she watched Starfire and Beast Boy draw closer still, locked in a powerful silence, her disbelief became something else. An ugly thought flitted through her mind, one she hated herself for even having.

"Where's Victor?" she asked suddenly.

Kid Devil, abashed by Argent's playful grasp, said, "I think he said something about Ops."

When the red demon tried slipping out from under her, Argent giggled and held on with bands of luminous silver that pinned his arms to his sides. "He promised to stop by before we all toddled off," she said absently.

Raven yanked her eyes away from the shocking, disturbing sight at the door. "I think I'll go see how he's doing," she said. Before anyone could argue, she pushed her soul through the refrigerator door, creating a portal that stole her away from the Commons with a gust of frigid air.

The gust flitted through the room until it reached Starfire and Beast Boy. Its icy touch shocked Starfire, breaking the spell Beast Boy's eyes held over her. Blinking suddenly, she wrapped herself in her arms once more, and stepped back. "Please excuse me. I must go," she said, and hurried through the door, her expression thick with worry.

Beast Boy stared after her with heavy, hooded eyes. Seconds after she left, her scent faded from his keen nostrils. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, shaking off a sudden stupor. "Huh? Sure. What?" he said to the wall. Then he looked around, frowning. "Hey, where did Raven go?"

* * *

Emerging from her portal, Raven found Cyborg at the central console in Ops. "You're missing your own party," she said, turning his head from the screen.

Overhead, a three-dimensional hologram of the Tower—Tyrants Tower no more—rotated slowly on an invisible axis. Its exterior still bore the scars of Slade's final attack, a façade the Tyrants had left to throw them off the trail. By the holograms' oscillating frames, Raven could see the outline of Cyborg's plan to rectify the damage.

"That explains why you're here," Cyborg said. "Check this out. We've got ourselves a summer home now. And it's pre-owned, too, so we picked it up cheap."

"But I hear the previous owners got away. You know, I should have been there. I could have helped out," Raven said. An edge of annoyance crept into her voice as she said, "I can pull my own weight."

Cyborg swiveled in his chair as she approached. She walked right into his finger as he tapped her belly, and said, "It's not 'your' weight I'm worried about. Besides, we did all right. Nobody got hurt."

She glanced down at his arm. The cleft where Ravager's sword had rested glistened with exposed components. Touching the edge of the wound with caution, Raven noted, "Almost nobody. Aren't you going to fix that?"

"That? It's nothing," he said, and turned back to the console. "Little nick like that? My maintenance cycle will take care of that tonight."

Raven's mouth twisted. "Doesn't it hurt?" she asked, frowning.

Cyborg glanced back, and then down at the wound. His diagnostic systems told him the exact dimensions and depth of the breach. His motor function hubs routed signals around the damaged circuits. His processors interfaced with what remained of his brain to translate the information into a kind of pain.

But he remembered how it felt on the field, when a hard hit would split his lip, or a cleat would catch his leg. He knew what pain should feel like. The simulations felt similar, and they told him when something was wrong with his body, but it didn't feel like real pain. It never felt quite right.

"Nah, it's fine," he said. With a wry look, he added, "Why so interested?"

Raven sobered, and said, "I'm practicing being maternal. Lucky for me, I live with three giant babies." She stared up at the rotating Tower hologram, folding her arms. "So what are you going to do with two bases of operation? Are we moving back to the Tower?"

The note of hope in her voice was unmistakable. Shaking his head, Cyborg said, "Honestly, I don't think so. After I made sure Ravager's Chronoton Detonator was disabled—"

"His what?" Raven said with a start.

"—I tried digging through their mainframe, disabling everything nasty I could find. It may look like our old Tower, but I'd recognize Gizmo's handiwork anywhere, and it's all over that place. It could take months to de-tyrranize the place. Might be safer if we just tore it down." He waved his hand at the hologram with a sigh. "I don't know. I'm still trying to figure it all out while I play catch-up from today."

Biting back a sigh, Raven said, "So let me help."

Cyborg frowned at her. "Oh, no. No. Your only job right now is keeping your bun and your oven out of trouble and away from stress. Go meditate on a book, or tea your chi, or something."

Raven's retort was lost in his console's incessant beeping. The hologram of the Tower vanished. The Alert map appeared in its place, broadened to its fullest view of the city. Hovering within the green edges of the hologram, a yellow dot crawled toward the outskirts of the suburbs, following the edge of the desolate Doldrums outside of town.

"Is it a Teen TroubAlert?" Raven asked, looking up at the map.

"Could you not call it that?" Cyborg grumbled. He tapped his console, calling up details of the Alert. "No, I don't think so. It looks like one of S.T.A.R. Labs' auto-trains has a breach of some kind."

"Auto-trains?"

He nodded. "We're hooked into the Labs' security network. It gives us access to a lot of information that comes in handy, but it also lets us know when something with the Lab goes screwy, in case there's any way we can help. Sort of a reciprocity thing."

"Wonderful," Raven said. "You managed to give me an answer that in no way answered my question."

Rolling his eye, Cyborg worked his console until the map changed again. This time it became a smooth, sleek bullet train unlike any Raven had ever seen. It had no windows, and only loading doors on the cars behind its long engine. "S.T.A.R. Labs owns a few robotic trains. They're totally unmanned, they've got environmental seals, which makes them perfect for hauling hazardous material cross-country."

She folded her arms. "Okay, I'm up to speed. So one of them is being hijacked?"

Cyborg double-checked his screen. "Doubt it. It looks like one sensor got tripped on one door of one car. Probably just a loose wire. The train's still moving, so it should be okay. Still, it's worth checking out. Considering everything they've done for me, it's the least I can do."

As he rose, Raven followed him with a suspicious look. "You mean it's the least 'we' can do. S.T.A.R. Labs has helped us all out," she said.

Cyborg shook his head. "I can handle this one alone. Everybody's tired after that business with the Tyrants today. Besides, if I call everybody up here now, the out-of-towners might feel like they gotta go too, which could cause trouble for them back home. Better I check this out myself. I figure I'll buzz the train before it hits city limits, do a visual."

As he stood to leave, Raven said, "And what exactly are you going to buzz that train in? Finish any new vehicles since this morning?"

The question froze Cyborg halfway out of his seat. He groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose, as he remembered the unfinished rebuilds waiting in his Bay. Peering over his knuckles, he looked pleadingly to Raven. "How about a lift? You pop a portal to the train? I wouldn't even need a portal back. I can just ride the train into town."

Lifting an eyebrow, Raven said, "I'm not so sure I should do that. You're injured—"

"It's just a scratch!"

"—and the others deserve to know when you're leaving them behind. They wouldn't like the idea of you gallivanting off on your own. They would want to help out," she said pointedly.

Cyborg's jaw clenched. "That's how it's gonna be, huh?"

She folded her arms. "Titans Together, right?"

Heaving a sigh, Cyborg said, "Fine. One hour of monitor duty a day, and you don't bother the other guys with this little jaunt."

"Six. I keep my mouth shut, and you get a direct portal to the train."

"Two daytime hours, and someone stays with you in the Compound at all times," he said. "Take it or leave it."

Jabbing a finger at him, Raven said, "And you talk to the rest of us before you tear down the Tower."

"Deal." He grasped her hand, pumping it with a victorious smile on his face. "Sucker. I would have gone as high as three hours."

When he tried to pull his hand away, Raven held him fast. "You know, I haven't opened a portal for you yet."

Clearing his throat, Cyborg glanced back at his console. "Since you're so eager, you can get started with some of the little stuff. It looks like we got a couple of non-emergency calls while we were out. Run through the messages—"

She shot him an icy look as she drew her hands together, culling shadow from thin air into a portal. "I think I can manage your busywork. I'm still a part of this team, fetus or no fetus."

"Hell, Raven," Cyborg said, fording through her portal with a smile. "Right now, you're a part and a half. Be back in a little bit."

"Have fun," Raven grumbled before her darkness swallowed him whole.

She pinched the dimensional fissure shut, and then plopped down into his chair, sighing with her feet's relief. A few keystrokes reconfigured the console to her preferences. In the corner of her screen, she saw three audio messages waiting, none of them urgent, and all of them from S.T.A.R. Labs.

She frowned at the message icons. "Hmm. I guess it could be a coincidence," she mused. Then she frowned at her own foolishness, and tapped the screen, activating the messages' playback.

"_Message One._"

* * *

Cyborg stepped from thin air onto smooth, rattling stainless steel. As the portal closed behind him, he pushed into a fierce wind that pulled at his face and whistled off of his armor. Electromagnets in his feet gripped the surface beneath him while he took his bearings.

He stood atop the rearmost car of the long auto-train. At the far end, the oversized pilot engine pulled a half-dozen sealed, cylindrical cargo cars, all of which wore S.T.A.R. Labs' acronym on their sealed doors.

The tracks the train rode plowed through the desolate wasteland east of Jump City. Sandy soil and sage rushed by, blurring into a pale brown smear flecked with stubborn instances of green. Halfway to the horizon, the lush valley of the city waited, its skyscrapers looming like monoliths of civilization.

Cyborg let his gaze trail from the distant city to the train's engine, and then down the line of cars. At first glance, the situation seemed as boring as he had expected. He would check the train's cars one by one, linking to their wireless monitor systems to find the faulty sensor. Then he could look forward to a quiet ride on top of the train all the way back to the city.

His idle dreams of a quiet evening were dashed when he saw something clinging to the side of a car halfway between him and the train's engine. He leaned against the wind, telescoping his sight upon the shape protruding from the car's smooth metal side. The shape billowed with a brown leather cloak that obscured the car's door. Whatever it was that wore the cloak was working at the electronic controls of the door.

"A train job. You have got to be kidding me," Cyborg said. "Did Raven's portal send me back in time?"

He began power-walking across the tops of the cars, careful to keep at least one magnetic foot connected, lest the wind yank him off the train. After minutes of terse stomping, and a careful jump across cars, he stood atop the threatened car and its thief.

Leaning down on one knee, Cyborg said to the oblivious thief, "Gotta give you props, man. I didn't think anybody pulled heists like this anymore. And I'm impressed that you only tripped the door sensor. S.T.A.R. has some serious chops when it comes to security. I know, I helped design it."

The thief continued to work without acknowledging Cyborg's presence. With glinting hands, the thief pried the car's control box open, and plucked at the wires inside.

Sighing, Cyborg reached down. "C'mon, don't make this a thing. You made a good effort, but you got caught. Just give up nice and easy, and save a little—"

When he grasped the thief's cloak, the hood came loose, catching the wind and tearing away from the thief's head. The hood unveiled a silver skull, its surface gleaming with immaculate polish. Two wide, empty red sockets burned at Cyborg as the skull looked up at him.

"—face?" squeaked Cyborg.

_Message One:_

_Hello, Titans! This is Doctor Brown at S.T.A.R. Labs, hoping my message finds you well. I was actually calling for Victor. I've got a big surprise for him, one that he's sure to find exciting. Victor, call me back as quickly as you can._

He reeled back, feeling the tip of a skeletal claw nick his chin. His armored backside skipped across the top of the car until his feet fell flat, anchoring him magnetically. As he pushed himself back up, he watched the cloaked metal thief clamber up the round side of the car, its claws sinking into the steel.

The wind caught the thief's cloak hard. It whipped off, lost to the Doldrums, and revealed the thief in whole. Pistons formed the majority of its legs, hissing with power as its clawed feet clamped into the car. Its spindly arms bracketed a thin, tubular, grisly metal ribcage, under which a menagerie of servos and circuitry pulsed.

Cyborg glowered at the skeletal automaton. A cold pang of familiarity blossomed in his synthetic stomach as he watched the skeleton stomp toward him, fighting the wind. "Well, that makes my job easier," Cyborg growled. His arm mechamorphed, bringing its sonic aperture to bear on the skeleton.

Above the roar of the wind and the thunderous clacking of the tracks, Cyborg heard a percussive cacophony of claws rending metal. Behind the skeleton, at the edge of the car, three new hoods poked up from the gap between cars. The hoods caught the wind and blew back, revealing three more metal skulls that glared at Cyborg, their malevolence unblinking.

Doffing their hoods, the three new skeletons climbed up the side of the car and clanked across its roof to join the other in menacing Cyborg. They formed a line that spanned the top of the car.

"Huh. That makes it less easy," muttered Cyborg. He lifted his arm, bringing his communicator online, bracing himself to eat Raven's crow for his earlier confidence.

Before he could shout a single word, a hand reached from behind him to grasp his forearm. The armor around his communicator squealed and crumpled beneath the quick hand. Cyborg howled as his forearm collapsed into a mash of useless components, cutting him off from his hand and rendering everything below the elbow a crumpled, immobile club.

He whirled blindly swept the air behind him with sonic fire. A fifth cloak pulled away from him, ducking beneath his wild shot. The wind at its back pulled the figure's cloak tighter around its body, obscuring it totally. Only a single, glowing eye pierced the shadow of its hood.

Striking between Cyborg's shots, the figure thrust two fingers through the sonic cannon's aperture. The lens of the cannon shattered as the fingers plunged into delicate components. As the figure's hand pulled back, Cyborg felt his cannon cough and die. He swung it like a bat, but the figure danced backward, somehow adhering to the roof of the car on nimble tiptoes.

"I didn't expect such a rapid response, Victor," the figure said, his voice straining to be heard above the roar of the wind. "Certainly not for such an innocuous, obvious sensor-glitch such as this. Is excessive paranoia a side effect of your faulty design, or merely a character flaw?"

The voice combined with the sight of the robots to strike a chord in Cyborg's memory. He flexed his useless cannon back into a hand as he peered into the hood, trying to spy the face that matched the voice. "It can't be… Doctor Smith?"

"Hello, Victor," Doctor Walter Smith said. His hooded head tilted slightly in a nod. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you at all. I have seen the blueprints for these new implants of yours. By their slipshod design, I had expected you to expire some time ago. Congratulations on surviving."

"I should say the same thing about you," Cyborg spat. He let his mouth run on autopilot as he considered his situation, which seemed to worsen with each passing second. "I thought we left you in your underground lair about to die. Didn't some idiot drop the roof on you? No, wait. That was you."

Smith lifted his arm at Cyborg. Amidst the streaming cloak, Cyborg saw Smith's fingers, black as polished night, jutting from the cuff of a tattered lab coat. Before Cyborg's eyes, he saw the fingers slide back and rearrange themselves into a familiar aperture, one that bathed Cyborg in a blue glow.

"Charming to the last," Smith said.

Cyborg ducked under a screaming stream of compression waves. The miss struck one of the robots behind him, shattering its chest with sonic force. A shower of components flew into the train's wake as the robot's torso disintegrated, leaving behind a set of clawed legs clutched into the car's roof.

Punching with his dead hand, Cyborg smashed the aperture between shots, crumpling the end of Smith's surprising cannon. The villainous scientist retreated several steps to collect his ruined weapon back into a hand. "Looks like you've been through some changes," Cyborg said.

"More than you think, Victor." Smith's reassembled hand grasped the edge of his fluttering cloak and threw it aside. The leather sheaf whipped away, unveiling a sight that stole Cyborg's breath.

Half of Smith's face glistened with a metallic sheen. The glow of his hood revealed itself to be a round, red optical implant that mirrored Cyborg's. Underneath Smith's oily lab coat pumped a myriad of devices, whole sections of his body replaced by cold machinery that was partially obscured by bolted metal plating. Like his hand, both his legs had been replaced, now piston-like facsimiles tipped with feet reminiscent of boots.

A vulgar smirk crossed the fleshy half of Smith's face as he stared down Cyborg's shock. "How does it feel, Victor, knowing that you are no longer alone? But where you languish in your nature, I revel. You children thought to leave me for dead. Well, now I have become more alive than any mere organic."

"Man…" Cyborg breathed. "You are one messed-up puppy, Doc."

"So says the troglodyte," Smith said. "But when I obtain your father's work, I will become even more than I am now. And I won't be stopped by the likes of you."

Cyborg jolted at his words. "My father? What does my father—?"

He never got the chance to finish the question as three sets of claws closed around him from behind. Working as one, Smith's three skeletons wrenched Cyborg's feet free of the car. He yelped as they swung him high over the side of the car, launching him clear of the train.

_Message Two:_

_Hello, this is Doctor Brown again. Victor, I know I said I had a surprise for you, but as you're taking your good time in calling back, my patience has run its course, and I can't contain myself any longer. Curse my scientific whimsy!_

_I know, I'm acting foolish, but with good reason. We found your father's project, Victor. It was lying in Metropolis' Archives, seemingly misplaced since at least the last inventory. I'm having the experiment's sample shipped immediately to the Jump City facility. It's riding the Labs' auto-train, so at least we know it will get here safely._

_I've also had the notes attached to the project transferred here electronically. I've only had a chance to skim them so far, but what I've found is positively amazing. You must contact me with an available time. If you could know what your father was working on, you would be tripping over yourself to see it sooner._

The arid ground rushed up and slammed into Cyborg. He tucked his arms and legs and bounced alongside the train tracks, grunting with each blow the desert dealt him. Cactus and sage exploded across his armor as he tumbled through the worst of the terrain, finally stopping against a squat bolder at the foot of the tracks.

Groaning, he stood. A mess of aches and minor alignment problems jumbled together under his armor, which had weathered the fall with only a few dents to show for it. The tail end of the train glinted at him, already several hundred yards away and growing more distant by the second.

Then his aural sensors isolated a new sound, one nearly lost in the clacking of the train. He heard the distinctive growl of a plasma-powered engine, and zeroed in on its source. Stretching his vision, he saw a small dust cloud approaching the train from the side, crossing the Doldrums' flats at reckless speeds.

"That your getaway car, Smith? Well, too bad," Cyborg growled. "I've got a few new tricks of my own, too."

At his silent command, the armor of his back ratcheted apart. A quartet of small thrusters extended from the openings. As he launched himself into a run after the train, he cried, "Jog Jets, maximum sprint!"

The thrusters alighted in a hiss, and pushed the air behind Cyborg with blue-white fire. Cyborg felt the thrust press into him with incredible force. His gait elongated until he was covering ten yards in a single step, and then twenty yards, and then more. Jet-propelled, he ran after the train and the mysterious new cloud that pulled up alongside it.

As he began catching up to the train, he concentrated on the cloud, focusing his optics to pierce its haze. He caught sight of a red, narrow chassis before a dark shape darted from the cloud and onto the end of the train, drawing his gaze to follow it.

The new shape streamed a black wing behind it as it struggled up the length of the train's last car. Cyborg saw the shape turn back at him, revealing a face that struck Cyborg with relief and surprise. "No freaking way," he muttered in disbelief, as he jogged well over a hundred miles an hour.

Sonic thrust burst from the bottoms of Cyborg's soles, catapulting him into a long, high arc. His legs wheeled beneath him as he watched the ground dip away and then come back. His feet slammed into the last car of the train, punching two divots into its roof while his magnets grabbed hold of the alloy again.

He turned to face the caped figure struggling up the length of the car behind him. "You are about the third-to-last person I expected to see today, man," Cyborg called above the roar of the wind. "The list goes: Jesus, Santa Claus, and you."

Bracing himself against the roof with black gloves, Robin squinted up at Cyborg, and called back, "You expect to see Santa Claus before you see Jesus?"

"Seriously, I'm glad to see you and all," Cyborg said, and offered Robin a helping hand. "But what the hell are you doing here? How are you even here-here, anyway? We're in the middle of nowhere!"

Robin ignored the hand. He stood, tilting forward at a forty-five degree angle, and stomped into the wind. "My bike's computer is still linked to the Titan Alert system. I saw the minor alert, and did some cross-checking with S.T.A.R. Labs' manifests. When I noticed the sensitive cargo with your father's name on it, I knew something might be wrong. Since I was passing through, I thought I should look into it."

Cyborg snorted. "Just 'passing through,' huh? Your new freelance work bring you out West?"

"Maybe we should focus on the maniac who threw you off the train," Robin said.

"What the hell is he after, anyway?" Cyborg walked behind Robin, ready to catch the grim Teen Wonder should the wind get the better of him.

He needn't have worried. Spikes slid from the soles of Robin's boots, punching footholds into the steel. He stomped his way toward the imperiled car, keeping his body low to the train to streamline himself. "I don't know. It's some project that S.T.A.R. Metropolis recovered recently from its archives. It has your father's name on it. That's all I know."

Flexing his remaining hand, Cyborg growled, "So let's go ask these junk piles and find out. After you."

In the time it had taken Cyborg to catch up to the train, Smith's robots had carved a hole in the roof of the car. The skeletal trio knelt around the roof's tattered breach, waiting in unnatural stillness. Smith had vanished, presumably down into the car's interior.

When Robin's boots touched down on the car roof, the skeletons rose at once and as one. By the time Cyborg thumped down onto the roof beside Robin, the skeletons had spread out to block the two teens from their breach.

"You hit 'em low, and I'll hit em—" Cyborg began to quip.

"Get to the hole," Robin shouted, and sprang forward.

Ribbons of electricity danced over Robin's gloves as he smashed through the middle of the skeletons' line. His fists drove convulsions into their servos as he struck their frames. Hollow ringing heralded each punch, painful for Cyborg to even listen to.

The skeletons swarmed around Robin, their claws groping in the wake of his acrobatic evasion. As they chased the Teen Wonder to the far side of the car, absorbing his blows and seeking to return them in kind, they left the breach in the roof unguarded.

Cyborg grimaced as he trundled up to the hole. His sonic cannon was out of commission, and his remaining weaponry would blow Robin off the roof along with his attackers, leaving Cyborg powerless to help his erstwhile friend. Robin seemed to be keeping ahead of the skeletons' grasp. Cyborg just hoped it remained that way.

Smith's balding, alloyed head emerged from the breach, rising smoothly on his piston legs. The old scientist spotted Cyborg coming for him, and hoisted himself from the train car as quickly as he could. A large metal cylinder clutched in his fleshy hand slowed him down, giving Cyborg time enough to reach him.

"Stay away, Victor!" snapped Smith. "I won't be denied what's rightfully mine."

The label on the cylinder Smith clutched flashed into view. Cyborg scowled when he saw the name on the label. "Rightfully yours? That's my dad's!" he bellowed.

Smith tried to keep it out of Cyborg's reach, but, despite his own brilliant cybernetic implants, the Titan was still larger than he was, and had a far greater reach. Cyborg's hand closed around the end of the canister. Smith grasped the other end with both hands, pulling with all of his might.

"If the Lab had not foolishly terminated me, I would have made this discovery. Instead, Silas stumbled into it, like the clumsy inferior he was. I won't be denied my place in history because of short-sighted employers," Smith shouted.

"Let go!" snarled Cyborg.

At the fringe of the battle, Robin backed to the edge of the car, trapped by the clustered swarm of skeletons. Open air and rushing desert lay beneath the edge of his heel, promising a painful end should he fall.

The skeletons surged forward to force him off the car. Robin slid, ducking underneath their snatching claws, reaching into his utility belt as he slipped between their legs. A quick slap to each back of the robots' rib cages planted an explosive, adhesive disc to his would-be killers. Robin grabbed the edges of his cape and let the wind fill it like a sail, jumping back and away from the skeletal trio an instant before they vanished into concussive fire.

The explosion surprised Cyborg, filling his hand with more strength than he needed. As well-built as the canister was, it couldn't compete with his mechanical might. It crumpled in his hand, breaking its hermetic seal with a loud _pop_.

"No!" Smith screamed.

Ribbons of viscous silver liquid dribbled from the canister's crushed end. The substance clung to Cyborg's hand, slithering up his arm with the force of the wind. Cyborg winced at the substance covering his hand, but held on tighter, determined to win the canister, even if its contents had been ruined in the recovery.

Panicking, Smith pulled harder, wrapping his mechanical hand around the canister. His added strength proved to be too much for even a canister as fine as this, for it twisted and tore apart. Silver fluid exploded between them, bursting from the ruins of the canister. Smith caught a handful of the substance before a majority of it spattered across Cyborg.

As Robin staggered the length of the car, trying to get back to Cyborg, he saw Smith clutch his hand with a scream. The cybernetic scientist reeled away from the breach in the roof, howling, his one remaining eye spread wide with agonized terror as he toppled over the side of the car.

Robin leapt, collapsing at the side of the rounded car with his arm outstretched. He felt Smith's oily lab coat slide through his fingers, and saw Smith's final look. Then he turned away and squeezed his eyes shut as Smith disappeared under the grinding wheels of the train. Smith's scream vanished as quickly as he did, subsumed by the clacking of the wheels on the track.

Rising slowly, Robin turned back to Cyborg. The massive Titan knelt on the roof of the car, running his hands through the thick silver sludge that clung to his front and arm. "Are you all right?" Robin asked, and shouldered his fluttering cape out of his face.

Cyborg made a face as he pulled at the sludge. "I could use a shower. All told, though, I think I'm—"

He stopped, stunned, as the sludge began to move on its own. At first he attributed its ripple to the fierce winds atop the train. But when the silvery substance began to crawl up his arm, against the wind, he felt a stab of concern.

He brushed harder at the sludge, trying to pry it off his skin. The sludge resisted, persevering up the lines of his armor, until it reached the tiny nick in his arm carved by Ravager's sword. With a mind and a plan all its own, the sludge began seeping into the exposed circuitry in his arm, vanishing from sight.

"Cyborg!" Robin cried, and pointed. The sludge spread across Cyborg's chest wriggled into the seams of his armor, soaking through unperceivable gaps in Cyborg's seals. In seconds, no trace of the sludge remained, save for half a ruined canister in Cyborg's hand.

Tense moments ticked by, meted out by the steady thrum of Cyborg's mechanical heart. He waited for an error message to appear in his vision, or for systems to begin going offline. He waited, and felt nothing.

Standing slowly, he said to Robin, "I think I'm okay. It didn't…ow. Ow. **Ow. Ow!**"

Cyborg's sharp cries became a scream that scraped his throat raw as his body burned white hot. Pain like nothing he had ever felt before ate him from the inside out. He collapsed onto his knees and clutched his chest, doubled over with agony.

Robin reached out to help, even as he had no idea of how to begin. As he reached for Cyborg's shoulder, he recoiled from the silvery fluid leaking from its seams.

The same fluid that had crawled into Cyborg now crawled out of him. It punched its way through his joints, and ate new holes in his armor, dissolving everything it touched into more silvery sludge. It dribbled from Cyborg's nose, and rolled down his cheek as tears, stripping away the flesh it crossed.

_Message Three:_

_Victor, this is Doctor Brown again. Do we need to discuss how voice mail works? These aren't messages from the great beyond, Victor. As such, it's considered rude not to return them._

_I've been reading your father's research. Quite frankly, I'm astounded. What we have here could completely change the study of life sciences. It should be arriving this afternoon. You must, must, must call me back. Or better yet, simply come to the Labs when you get this. I could make a career studying your father's project. I doubt very much anything else will even warrant my attention for the next year, much less today._

_Absolutely phenomenal. Silas somehow invented a means of redefining life itself, all in the quest to help his son. You should be proud of your father, Victor. He's done a great thing here._

"H-Help…" Cyborg pleaded in a choked fraction of his voice. He tried to scream, but the sludge had taken his chest. He tried to reach out to Robin, and watched his hand melt before his dissolving eyes. He coughed his last breath, and sprayed the Teen Wonder with a spatter of silver that had once been his lungs.

Robin gaped in horror as Cyborg's shape succumbed to the silver substance. The Titan's wracked expression vanished last, hollowing out into a liquid parody of pain before it sank into the rest of what Cyborg had been. The heavy substance poured backwards into the breach in the train, drawn by the dents left by the battle, until it vanished entirely, leaving no trace of the Titan behind.

The Teen Wonder grasped at the last trickle of the substance as it fell into the train. His hand broke the stream, gathering a fine coat of the sludge. It clung to his gloves as he fell to his knees, dumbstruck by the sudden, senseless loss.

"No…" he whispered, staring at the silver residue. "Cyborg…"

**To Be Continued**


	34. Technis: Hypothesis

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Technis**: _Hypothesis_

Robin kicked open the lobby door and staggered through, leaving his Redbird draped on its side over the curb. His arms trembled with the weight of his sagging cape, which he held before him, its corners grasped in his fists. The muscles of his face knotted together at the sight of the Titans huddled at the security door on the lobby's far side.

"Where is he?" Tek demanded, storming at him the moment she saw him through the glass. Panic tore the words into a shrill, stuttering parody of her voice. "Where's Vic?"

Beast Boy was half a step behind her, looming with confusion that bordered on fury. "What the hell happened?" he snapped. "And what the hell are you doing here? When did Vic even leave the—"

They both stumbled aside as Robin shouldered through them. His heavy cape-bag swayed in his grasp, its edges threatened by a silvery substance held inside it. He marched through to Sector Prime, ignoring the halfhearted protests tumbling after him.

Confusion spread between the disregarded Titans. With little choice, they trailed behind Robin, falling into step on his march down the grand central hall of the Compound. He didn't lead for long, and elbowed the control panel of Sickbay's door, bidding it open.

Robin heaved his cape-bag onto the nearest biobed inside. His whole body shook with the relief of the weight. But he kept his hands clutched around his cape's corners, controlling the spread of the bag across the bed's padded surface. A small mob pressed into his back, craning over his shoulders to see.

Rising into the air, Raven peered at the silvery compound swirling inside the cape. "What are we looking at?" she asked.

"Would you please tell us wh—" Bushido began.

"Where is he?" Tek yelled in Robin's ear. "Where's Vic? What happened? What did you mean, he's…"

As they slid around the bed, gathering around his cape-bag, Robin exhaled shakily. His sigh stirred the reflective surface of the compound. "This was as much of him as I could bring back," he said. "This is Victor."

The mass quivered beneath the Titans' stare. They drew closer still, until their noses hooked over the edge of Robin's cape. Five sets of wide eyes stared back at them from the masses' silver, rippling surface.

"What?" Beast Boy uttered, pulling back with confusion.

Robin's voice barely rose above a whisper, crawling from his throat in hoarse deadpan as he said, "There was a fight on top of the train. Someone…that scientist we fought underground with the Streetbeat…he was trying to get hold of a hazardous compound. The canister broke, and the compound covered Victor, and then…"

"No…" Tek whimpered, and groped for the vial tucked into her belt. The vial rattled as she pried its cover loose, all the while staring into the cape-bag. "No. That's just stupid."

Tentatively, Bushido lifted his hand to her shoulder. "Allie," he murmured.

She jerked at Bushido's touch, spraying pills from her vial as it dropped from her hand. "No! You're lying," she snapped at Robin, and whirled upon the Teen Wonder. Tears cut gleaming scars into her vitriolic face. "People don't just…just…melt! Stop lying!"

In a strained voice, Starfire said, "I see no organic remains. And this substance is cold." She kept her eyes buried in the substance, unable to lift them to the masked face of its keeper. Her shoulders trembled until she wrapped herself in her arms.

The ceiling chimed, and then chirped at them in Sarah's chipper voice. "_Doctor Katherine Brown has arrived in the lobby, and is requesting an immediate meeting with Robin. Your collective biometrics indicate that this may be a bad time for a meeting. Would you like me to ask the Doctor to reschedule?"_

"Send her to sickbay," Robin said.

"Do it," Raven told the ceiling as she stared into the shimmering mass, probing it with her mind's eye. No matter how she strained her ethereal senses, she could not find even an echo of life inside Robin's cape. Whatever the Teen Wonder carried appeared, at least to Raven, to have never been alive at all. "It doesn't look like anything. It's just goo," she said, confused.

"Is this a joke? This is a joke," Beast Boy said, glancing back at the open door. "Any minute, Vic's gonna jump out and yell—"

"I was there!" Robin snarled, jolting the rest of the Titans back a step with the force of his voice. "He begged me to help him! This stuff killed him from the inside out, and he begged me, and…and I…" His voice dwindled, and his chin dipped. Taking a deep breath, he said, "He's gone."

Silence entombed the Titans. Only Tek's snuffling tears pierced the pall. With silent glances and wordless questions, they dispelled the last of their disbelief. A hollow, empty feeling pressed all around them, pushing them together around the table, where they bowed their heads over the last remains of Cyborg.

Doctor Brown tore through their pall in a breathless, clacking, high-heeled run. She collapsed onto the open frame of Sickbay's door, her fluttering lab coat drifting down over the wilted lines of her skirt suit. "Where is he?" she gasped.

The rest of the Titans parted, revealing Robin and his bunched cape. Robin tugged at the cape's corners, and said hoarsely, "He's here."

The scientist administrator launched herself from the door, shoving her way through alien powerhouses and pregnant demons and reformed assassins to see the cape-bag's contents for herself. "Do you have a defibrillator?" she asked.

A noise burst from Beast Boy, something halfway between a sob and a laugh. "I don't think that's gonna do much, Doc," he said.

"Quickly!" she snapped. "I don't know how much time we have!"

Brown's voice cleared the stupor from the room. Waddling hurriedly, Raven opened a panel at the head of the biobed and produced two defibrillator paddles wired into the wall. They charged with a whine as Brown snatched them from Raven's hands.

Without a word of warning, Brown thrust the paddles into the silver mass and triggered their charge.

The mass reacted at once with a violent shudder. Its reflective surface darkened as a myriad of shapes pushed out of its edges. An epileptic, geometric fit pushed against the inside of Robin's cape with every shape imaginable. Noise, shrill and inhuman, screeched from its depths. Then, as quickly as it had jumped, the mass became still and glistening once more.

The Titans jumped back from Robin and his quivering cape-bag, shocked by the paddles' effect. Even Robin appeared shaken, though he kept the bag aloft. "What was that?" he asked Brown.

She ignored him. Her foot pounded the tile with impatience as the paddles charged again. When their whine peaked, she plunged the paddles back into the bag and shocked the mass again. Its reaction was the same jumbled, shrill fit as before, but briefer.

Pitching the paddles against the wall, Brown said, "We need to stimulate him with electricity. As much as we can. Now!"

"What are you talking about? What are you doing to it—him—whatever?" Tek cried.

"There's no time! Please!" Brown insisted, her voice cracking with desperation.

"Get back," Robin ordered, and shifted the cape- bag's corners into one hand. His other hand drew a disc from his belt, one with a yellow rim encircling his sigil. When he thumbed the stylized R, the disc crackled in his grasp. The noise chased everyone in the room back as he dropped the disc into his cape and averted his eyes.

Lightning jumped from the inside of Robin's cape in thin prongs, thickening the air with blinding static. Through the flash, Robin watched the substance in his grasp roil, its surface blackening in electric throes. Edges shapes leapt from the mass's shapelessness, this time remaining, expanding. In seconds, the mass outgrew its bag, pulling the corners out of Robin's fist. He reeled back and drew a birdarang on reflex as he watched the crackling phenomenon through the slits of his mask.

The mass poured across the biobed, filling its length with a flickering nightmare of shapes. As it grew, its harsh edges softened. Its shapes poured together, and separated, and reconnected into flailing limbs. Its tarnished surface became smooth and brown. The sphere growing at the top of the mass caved inward, forming a broad, open mouth that howled. Two white growths emerged above the mouth, bugging into eyes.

As the electro-disc emptied, the shape collapsed onto the biobed. Lingering details arose on its surface—sculpted musculature, pores, clinging coarse hair, damp skin, dark nipples, cuticles. The shape's howl ended in a gasp that knocked the empty disc from its stomach. Its legs splayed over the sides of the table, revealing that it was no it, but a he.

Doctor Brown swept the sheet from a neighboring bed and draped it over the creature, startling him with her errant touch. He shuddered and gasped as her fingers tested the soft new flesh over his bones. His flickering gaze fell upon her smile, and widened. "It's going to be all right," she murmured to him. "Just breathe. You're all right."

The Titans stared at the heaving creature on the biobed, the metallic remains now shaped like a man. Beast Boy stepped to the foot of the bed, his mouth hanging open. Lifting a hand, the shapeshifter obscured half his view of the stranger's face with the back of his glove. In a whisper, he said, "Vic?"

Hearing his name calmed the man's convulsions. His nostrils hissed with sharp breath as he found Beast Boy with two whole, human eyes. "Gar? Where…? I'm in the Compound? What happened on the train? I can't access my systems. I think my diagnostics are—"

He blinked, and waved a hand in front of his face. The sight of his brown, crinkled palm made him jump and claw backwards until his head struck the wall. Grunting, he clutched his head. Then his fingers worked across the smooth skin of his scalp. He jerked back the edge of his sheet to peek underneath, and then yanked it up to his chin with a cry. The other end of the sheet slid up his legs, revealing two healthy, hairy feet.

Tek's tears curled around her trembling lips. Tentatively, she touched Victor's foot. The sensation made them both start. "I don't believe it," she murmured.

Doctor Brown eased him back onto the bed, gently taking the sheet from his hands. Her eyes threatened to spill over at the sight of his astonishment. Smoothing his brow, she murmured, "Welcome back, Victor."

* * *

The S.T.A.R. Labs' Auto-Station had become a hive of hazmat suits, expensive cleanup equipment, and bitter resentment.

Dozens of emergency personnel swarmed the lone auto-train parked in the cavernous depot. Each person wore a clunky metallic suit designed to repel harmful radiation and chemicals at the cost of comfort and maneuverability. They scoured across and atop and through and under the train's cars, lugging hoses, and foam decontaminate dispensers, and detection wands connected to bulky packs.

The detection wands in particular were a nightmare to carry. Weighing nearly twenty kilos apiece, the piece of analytical equipment would be unpleasant enough. When combined with the environmental seal of the suits, it turned each sweep of the auto-trains cars into an agonizingly slow march inside of a personalized sauna.

"Look, all I'm saying is, it would keep situations like this from happening." Anthony said through the external speaker of his suit. He lurched alongside the auto-train's center car, which had sustained the most damage in the metahuman incident. The tip of his detection wand bobbed underneath the edge of the car, looking for anything that might not belong. "They should have to toe the same line as everybody else."

His partner Steven lurched after him, checking Anthony's work with an identical detection wand. "It would never work. Nobody would submit to something like that voluntarily. It's unconstitutional."

"Show me the part of the Constitution that protects some nut job's right to tear holes in a train," Anthony scoffed. "The Second Amendment doesn't cover people with laser breath."

"Maybe," conceded Steven, "but the law doesn't require people to report other abilities. People don't have to fill out a form because they're smart, or because they're a gifted athlete." His detection wand beeped at him, informing him of a particularly interesting clump of dirt stuck to the underside of the car. He adjusted the sensitivity on his wand and continued on.

The reflective visor of Anthony's hazmat suit twisted back, staring at Steven. "Athletic ability? No one ever killed another person by being good at baseball."

Steven's smirk filtered through his suit's speaker. "Well, you haven't. But then, I've seen you at the plate. The only thing you murder is the team's batting average."

"The good ones do just as much damage as the bad ones," Anthony insisted. "The only fair thing to do is make them register their super powers. Just like any other citizen has to register any other dangerous weapon."

"But that means you're treating the people themselves as weapons," Steven pointed out. "That's a dangerous distinction to make. It could even be construed as a form of segregation."

Anthony's retort was squelched by the sudden alarm of his detection wand. He and Steven stopped, aiming the long probes beneath the edge of the train car's wheels. "Stick's picking something up. It's…metallic?"

Swatting the side of his wand's display, Steven shook his head, and said, "No, it's not. I'm reading it as organic. And now I'm not," he added ruefully.

"These things are useless. Billions of dollars' worth of operating budget, and we get the finest equipment Nineteen Ninety-Four has to offer," Anthony grumbled. Both technicians stooped low to arch their detection wands further behind the train wheels. The wands' displays fluctuated with indecision, refusing to identify the mystery tucked into the crook of the wheel.

The wands jerked without warning, staggering Anthony and Steven into each other as a strong force dragged them toward the wheels. They grunted and pulled, each throwing his weight back against the pull of the wand without success.

Anthony drew breath to shout for assistance, or to question which idiot thought to leave some component of the train active and capable of snaring his useless equipment. His lungs froze when he saw a silver tendril snaking up the shaft of his detection wand. Its reflective surface crackled and popped as it climbed. Hearing Steven gasp, Anthony glanced over and saw a similar tendril on the other wand.

"We've got a Three-Oh-Three here!" Steven shouted, clawing at the shoulder straps of his pack.

Anthony cleared his pack's straps and backed away as the tendril engulfed the wand and worked its way up the connector cable. "Animate substance, intent unknown!" he bellowed through his suit.

Both technicians scrambled backwards as the silver tendrils swallowed their packs. More tendrils surged up from underneath the train, pouring across the detection equipment. The wand displays darkened, and the packs were subsumed beneath a skin of crackling, reflective silver.

Geometric seizures wrought the strange material. Above the troop of heavy footfalls rushing toward them, Anthony and Steven heard a shrill, electronic whine emerge from the jittering silver. The whine deepened as the substance spread and rose, becoming a misshapen sphere.

Bulges emerged from the sphere, which caved into a curved shape that crouched upon two coiled pseudopodia. Thin wires sprouted from its uppermost bulge, which pushed forth a pair of white, wide orbs, and collapsed in the middle to form a scream.

Tendrils became arms that clawed at the ground. Trembling legs condensed out of the pseudopodia. The silver sheen faded into raw, pink skin that rippled with the undertones of a skeleton. Its scream ended in heaving gasps as it collapsed onto the floor.

"Jesus Christ," Steven breathed. He crouched low, staying several lengths back from what had just absorbed his outdated detection equipment. "We don't have anything on the books for this one."

Anthony crouched next to him. "Can you understand me?" he asked, speaking loudly and slowly to the creature.

The creature's gasps gave way to muted chuckles. It stared at its two human hands, which bore lines of age and calluses from work. It clutched at the wiry white hair on its balding head, and patted down the wrinkles around its smile. "Yes," it said to itself.

As it stood, the creature's skin began to change again. It expanded out from the creature's body, brightening and coarsening into white fabric. By the time it stood, the creature wore a spotless lab coat, with a tailored suit underneath hiding its emaciated frame. Growths emerged from its crooked nose, stretching into spectacles that hid its glinting eyes.

It turned to the bewildered technicians, brushing its manifested clothes smooth. In a bored, smug tone, it said, "My name is Doctor Walter Smith. Please direct me to the nearest phone. I have accolades to collect, and Nobel Prizes to win, and little time for stupid questions."

The reborn Doctor Smith raised an eyebrow at his frozen audience. Both hazmat technicians stared at him, unable to twitch for sheer astonishment. A glance around the auto-train's depot revealed an entire crowd of similar suits in a similar state.

Under other circumstances, Smith might have appreciated the reverence. Instead, it creased his brows into a single, irritated line. He approached one of the two suits that had first encountered him, and said, "Your alarm is unnecessary and, frankly, annoying. Kindly assist me, or direct me to someone who will. Several fundamental scientific principles have been violated in the last few hours, and if I am to fully ascertain—"

As he drew closer to the suits, he stopped. The reflection in the suits' visors stared back at him with slumping features. In a panic, he reached up to push the errant features back into place. Pale, pinkish skin sloughed off his cheeks, spattering onto his wilting shoes. Fat droplets of fabric drizzled from the back of his coat into a milky puddle on the floor.

Smith stared into his hands. The tone of his skin swirled with silver lesions as his shape began to sag. "No," he said, shaking his head, spraying flecks of his skin in the process. "Losing cohesion. I need more power."

He ignored the suits' protests and turned to the train. Each lurching step he took left a puddle of swirling silver in his wake. The effort took its toll on his dribbling body, until at last he collapsed against the side of the train. He sank to the wheels, leaving a trail of himself along the side of the car.

Shaking, he pushed his sagging hand into the wheels. It splattered down the side of the wheel. One last breath escaped his mouth before it poured off of his chin and onto his knees. He scowled, focusing what remained of his eyes on the crook of the wheels.

The sum of his intellect focused into a tight, narrow tendril that slithered out of his empty wrist. The tendril stretched into the train, probing its undercarriage with waning strength. While his spirit remained strong, Smith's body rapidly betrayed him, degenerating back into its silvery beginnings.

At last, his tendril sensed its prize, and tapped against a warm conduit on the train's undercarriage. The last of his strength surged up the length of his tendril, plunging its tip through the casing of the conduit. His body hummed with a sudden current, his molten skin tightening at once.

New features arose out of his sagging face, forming a frown as they solidified. He looked down at his diminished body, which suckled at the train's impressive power source. His solidity renewed, he recognized the problem, if not its source.

"This will not do," he muttered. "Something is missing. The transformation is incomplete. Flawed. I need…"

The murmurings of S.T.A.R. Labs' technicians behind him distracted him. Scowling, he glanced over his misshapen shoulder at the row of hazmat suits watching him in awe.

His tendril expanded across the surface of the train, using its own power as he subsumed the metal. Matter flowed back up his arm, revitalizing the shriveled parts of him. He stood, whole once again, and pressed his other hand to the train. His skin silvered again as it consumed more, and more.

He would deal with these annoyances. Then he would seek the answers he needed from the one inferior intellect that might have hoarded them.

"Stone…"

* * *

"So what's the deal, Doc?" Beast Boy asked, squinting through one eye. His finger inched toward Victor's nose.

The revivified Titan looked up with a scowl, his eyes crossing on the tip of Beast Boy's gloved finger. "I'm fine, Gar," he said, and shoved Beast Boy's hand out of his face.

"Don't touch him, Garfield!" Doctor Brown said without looking away from Sickbay's computer interface. The wall display mesmerized Brown with a magnified image of blood cells. Red platelets drifted across the display before Brown adjusted the view again, zooming closer, driving Sickbay's analytical capabilities into one of the cells.

Sitting cross-legged on the next biobed over, Tek watched Victor eat. She sighed and rested her chin in her hands. "He isn't in danger, is he? He looks so…healthy."

Beast Boy's finger hovered above Victor's scowling brow. "Yeah. He's all squishy now."

The muscles lurking beneath Victor's sheets made Tek grin. "No, he's not," she murmured.

Victor swallowed hard. He fingered the IV tube feeding saline into his arm, marveling at the pucker of flesh around the cold, metal needle, and the tiny flash of pain he felt when he fiddled with the rig. It wasn't an error message, or a diagnostic. He felt the pain.

"So what am I?" he asked, entranced by his own arm. "I mean, what did that goop do to my implants?"

Brown considered the display a moment more, and then nodded to herself. "Absolutely fantastic," she said. "Victor, your organic and cybernetic components have been entirely supplanted by mechanical replacements. You are now one hundred percent artificial."

Blinking confusion met Brown's words. Victor stared at her, and then at the hematological display behind her, unable to connect her statement with what he saw. Beast Boy simply scratched his head, and asked, "Uh, Doc? You know what 'artificial' means, right? 'Cause it's not just a flavoring."

Her eyebrow arched. "I'm familiar with the definition of 'artificial,' Garfield. I'm also familiar with the concept of 'total organic attomechanical supplantation,' which is what we're looking at here."

She tapped the wall monitor. Its image broadened, zooming deeper into the example platelet until at last only a blurry conglomeration of black and white spheres drifted in the monitor. Squint as they might, the Titans could not make the blurred objects take any meaningful shape.

"Are you familiar with the extraterrestrial incident that happened a little over a year ago? It was in Arizona, or New Mexico…one of the southwestern states," she said, waving off the elusive details that escaped her.

The Titans looked amongst one another, and then shared a shrug. "We kind of have our own alien troubles around here, Doctor Brown," Tek said. "Why?" Then her face fell into disarray, and she squeaked, "Wait, is that it? Is Vic infected by aliens now?"

Exasperated, Victor sighed, and said, "Allie, calm down. I'm not—"

"That is somewhat the case," Doctor Brown said, interrupting him. Her pointed look shocked him into silence. Tapping the monitor again, she explained, "What you are looking at here is the subatomic structure of Victor's body. What you would normally see are protons and electrons forming atoms, which in turn would form molecules, and so on and so forth."

Beast Boy sniffed, and said, "Well, obviously. But that's not what we're looking at…is it?" he added, confused. "I mean, since you brought it up…"

"What you have instead of subatomic particles," Doctor Brown told Victor, "is a complex array of machines that are somehow able to mimic those particles. Trillions of machines are replicating in your body to arrange themselves into the perfect facsimile of a normal, healthy seventeen-year-old human male. In essence, you are now a colony of seemingly incognizant machines that have decided to shape themselves to look, think, and act like…you."

Victor watched his hands clench and unclench. Their fingernails pressed into their palms, shooting sensation up his arms to tickle the tactile centers of what he thought was his mind. He looked real. He felt real.

"I'm made of nanites?" he asked at last.

Brown shook her head. "These machines are infinitesimal compared with nanites. The difference in scale is mind-boggling. This goes well beyond our understanding of technology. These machines, whatever they are, appear to have been harvested from that hostile alien probe, which the Justice League neutralized, and our government was kind enough to contain."

"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop," Beast Boy said, waving his hands. "Vic's made of alien micro-machines? That's stupid. And impossible."

She looked at him askance. "Really? Garfield, you violate the laws of thermodynamics every time you turn into a field mouse. She," Brown said, and pointed to a startled Tek, "could fuel an entire scientific career if anyone ever bothered to investigate how, why, and to where her armor disappears when not in use. I'd wager the word 'impossible' is bandied about with some irony within these walls."

"…that's two points for science, Gar," Tek said, breaking their bewildered speechlessness.

"This probe," Brown continued, testily eyeing Tek and Beast Boy, "utilized exactly this kind of mimetic technology to absorb, subsume, and assimilate raw matter into its replicating process. I can't imagine how Silas acquired a sample of the alien probe. And frankly, I'm baffled at how he even began to repurpose these machines. But somehow—"

"—somehow he took these monster space mini-bugs, and reprogrammed them to eat Cyborg and spit out a de-cyborged Cyborg?" Beast Boy said. "Gross! Dude, you're robo-vomit. That's going to be your code name from now on. We're gonna be all, 'oh, no, there's a TroubAlert, what do we do?' And then you're gonna be all, 'no, don't worry, Robo-Vomit has the answer!'" he exclaimed.

"Gar, shut up! He is not!" Tek cried. She reached out to take Victor's arm, but hesitated an inch above his skin. "That's not true, is it? You said the little robots were mimicking normal human parts, so it's like he's just as good as a real human now. I mean," she babbled, blushing, "not that he wasn't as good before, or that he wasn't real…I don't—"

"Enough!" Brown snapped, and stamped her foot until the babbling fonts on either side of Victor stopped talking. "There are now—officially!—too many teenagers participating in this consultation. One of you has to be here, and he's the one in the bed. I'll allow one more of you to stay, provided that he or she can remain perfectly quiet. Now who will it be?"

Beast Boy opened his mouth to protest. It didn't matter how annoying Doctor Brown found them, they were all Titans, and Titans stuck together through anything.

But he lost his train of thought as a blue-white light painted the walls, dazzling him. As he battled the spots in his eyes, he felt a pair of cold, massive hands close around him from behind. He managed a squeak of surprise before Tek armor-hurled him out of Sickbay, taking just enough consideration to let the doors open before she let him fly.

"Thanks, Gar!" Tek chirp tinnily before slapping the door panel. The doors curtained together, swallowing the sound of Beast Boy's face fault into the tile. Brushing her clanky hands together, she turned back to the stunned Victor and Brown. Her armor shuffled itself into her back with a blue flash, and she dropped to the floor. "Sorry. You were saying?" she asked Brown.

Victor shivered as Brown took his hand. The sensation of skin on skin made him gasp. Her fingers massaged the muscle of his arm, and gently worked his elbow and wrist. She tested the limb, her face knitted in scrutiny.

After a long moment of examination, she clasped his hand in hers. Her eyes crinkled and brimmed, and the analytical coldness melted out of her features. A hesitant half-smile cocked her lips as she squeezed his hand and said, "Victor, I don't fully understand what's happened here, and I'm unwilling to make any definite prognoses without further study. But based on what I've seen so far…it appears that your father found a way to make you whole again. He reprogrammed alien technology to absorb and restructure your mass into a perfect copy of your fully human self, neurochemistry and all."

Tek leaned at the foot of Victor's bed. Her tears curled around the edges of her beaming smile. "It's a miracle. It's, like…I don't even know what it's like," she said with a laugh, and sniffed. "Vic?"

He stared at his hands, an unreadable expression heavy in his symmetrical features. His fingers curled into fists, and then slowly released, making the tendons in his wrists jump up against his skin.

Finally, he looked up. "Okay," he said. "Thanks for checking me out, Doc. Is there anything else I should know?"

Doctor Brown shared a startled glance with Tek. "Erm…not at the moment. Though I want to run you through a battery of tests to determine the long-term—"

"Vic, did you hear what she said?" Tek interrupted Brown with a squeak. "You're not metal anymore!"

"Yeah, I heard her, kid," Victor said. He swung his bare feet toward the floor. A soft groan whistled out his nose as the muscles in his back retroactively complained about the biobed's padding. "We've gotta do a lot more testing. If something's gonna go haywire down the line, we should know ahead of time. In the meantime, can I get out of here?"

"…what?" Tek said, watching Victor gather the thin biobed sheet around his waist. "Get out of…? What are you talking about?"

In a subdued, controlled voice, Brown said, "I would very much rather you stay in Sickbay. And I insist that you avoid strain of any kind until we know for certain that there's no danger."

"Yes to the second one, and a big fat 'no' to the first one," Victor said, and hopped up with another grunt. "Today's been a mess, and there's still a lot of post-game work to take care of. If we don't lock down the Tower ASAP, who knows what else could hole up in there."

Brown tried to ease him back onto the bed. Even without his bulky cybernetics, Victor's smooth head topped hers by several inches. "I'm sure the others would be more than happy to pitch in," she said testily.

He brightened at the thought. "How's everybody doing? I got so wrapped up in that Alert that I never got the chance for this morning's post-game. Is everybody okay? We should—"

Pouring her entire weight into her hands, Brown managed to force Victor back onto the bed. "I'm sure everyone is fine," she snapped. "And they can manage themselves for five minutes while you deal with this life-altering transformation."

Victor's expression soured. He clutched the sheets to his waist, and said, "No offense, Doc, but do you have any idea how much can happen around here in five minutes?"

* * *

Beast Boy pulled his face out of the floor and wiped the drool from his chin, grumbling into the back of his hand. "Lousy, twiggy little robo-hulking, dude-hogging so-and-so…"

As he pushed up his sleeves to fight his way back to his best friend's sickbed, a tantalizing scent stopped him cold. His blood simmered in his veins as his gaze followed the scent across the floor.

Starfire emerged from the hall. She walked—no, she glided, approaching Sickbay's doors with a tray of food balanced in her delicate hands. Her body flowed with each step, ebbing and surging like a golden sea of sensuality held at bay by thin, enticing lilac bindings. Waves of radiant hair rushed behind her, bouncing at the slightest movement of her head, of her perfect countenance and full, budding lips, of her fathomless green eyes that sparkled when they fell upon Beast Boy.

His heart raced from one side of his chest to the other as he drew himself upright. A long-buried hunger awakened in him, longing to taste the golden waves of the sea that captured and captivated his eyes. Dizzy with the hunger, Beast Boy tried to recall ever seeing such a refulgent beauty. But every face of every woman he had ever known became Starfire in his mind's eye. She was the only woman, _the_ woman, a goddess descended as a gift to all of mankind.

The world shrank around Beast Boy, until all that remained was Starfire and the wretched distance that separated him from her. He floated toward her on jellied legs, his senses fixated upon every last intoxicating detail of her presence. "Hey, Kory," he murmured, pushing the words out of his mouth, which felt as though it were tumbling a million miles away.

Starfire started, her distant thoughts broken by Beast Boy's voice. The tray bounced in her grasp as she bumped back into the wall, suddenly noticing the shapeshifter approaching her. "Oh! H-hello, Gar," she said, tightening her voice.

His gaze pinned Starfire to the wall. Drifting toward her, he wondered how he could have gone so long without noticing her, or how she made him feel. Every moment of his life before this one felt like a waste now, and every moment after would be an opportunity, one he intended to seize. "What's up?" he said breathily, his fangs emerging from a lascivious smile.

"I was…I-I am bringing Victor a meal," she said. Tension strained across her body, making her tremble in his presence. Her pupils blossomed as he drew near. A sharp breath whistled through her teeth and swelled her chest as he rested a hand on the wall next to her, leaning close. Pearls of sweat emerged from her creased brow as she swallowed, and struggled to say, "I thought he might b-be hungry."

Beast Boy's gaze dropped, and then slowly climbed back to her pooling eyes, paying little attention to the tray of sandwiches trembling atop her hands. "It looks good," he purred. "Real good."

"It is…it is truly incredible, what has happened to Vic," Starfire said. She tried turning away from Beast Boy, and found she could not. His sculpted elfin features held her hostage. She felt the tension melt from her legs, trickling throughout her as tingling warmth that made her shiver.

"Getting your life back after so long…can't imagine what I'd do," he said. His other hand slapped the wall, boxing her in. His face hovered before hers, their noses brushing at the tips. "What would you do to feel alive, Kory?" he whispered.

The tray of food clattered to the floor, spilling sandwiches and tater tots across their boots. Starfire grasped Beast Boy by the jaw line, her fingers weaving through his shaggy green hair as she filled her mouth with his. Thundering heat seeped into her as she pressed herself to him, drinking in every sensation his body had to offer as she poured herself into his touch.

Beast Boy staggered back with the force of her kiss. His hands raced ahead of his confusion, cupping the curve of her hips, combing through her hair, and brushing up her sides. Her tongue danced with his. Her breath rolled across his face, flaring from her nose and escaping her lips in soft gasps. His mind reeled, unable to think, letting his body reply instead to her overwhelming passions.

Some distant, smothered part of Beast Boy's mind felt a cold puff of air across the nape of his neck. He paid the chill absolutely no thought, until the lights of Sector Prime began to flicker and buzz. The chill sharpened and spread, so much so that when Beast Boy at last pried his lips from Starfire's, his gasp emerged as steam. With Starfire still clutched to him, he turned his head toward the chill.

Raven stood behind him, her eyes wide with shock. A black portal closed behind her on the wall. She held a bundle of gray sweat clothes rested on the shelf of her stomach. Her lips had been pressed into a whitish line, but slackened into a sneer at Beast Boy's glance.

"Please don't let me interrupt," she said, and hugged the bundle of sweats tighter to her chest.

The sight of Raven sent a cold shock through Beast Boy that robbed him of Starfire's heat. He jerked out of Starfire's embrace, tripping over his own shoes, with Starfire's scent still reeling in his nose. "Raven!" he cried. "No, that wasn't…I mean, we weren't…"

Raven twisted her head to one side with a sniff. "I was just bringing our recently-dead friend some clothes. By all means, continue your tonsil hockey." She waddled toward Sickbay, leaving Beast Boy in her lurch.

Thrust from Beast Boy's arms, Starfire staggered back. Her senses returned to her in a rush, pouring through her arrested desire to create a heated swirl of vertigo. She fought to keep her legs underneath her as the world tilted from side to side. "I…I am not…"

"Raven, it wasn't like that," Beast Boy insisted, scrambling after Raven. He clutched his temples in confusion, and added, "I mean, it was, but I wasn't…I don't really remember."

"Really? Let me help," Raven snapped without looking back. "You had your tongue buried in Koriand'r's mouth. The end. Now leave me alone."

"It wasn't my—"

"I promise you, Beast Boy, I don't care," Raven told him. She tried to escape him, but her waddle couldn't outpace his long legs. "Why don't you just—"

The _thump_ of flesh and bone on tile made Raven stop. She turned, already annoyed that Beast Boy would throw himself on the ground in a cute ploy for her attention. Then she saw Beast Boy confused and upright. She looked past him, and gasped.

Starfire lay sprawled across the floor. Her whole body trembled. Paleness tarnished the golden color of her skin as she stirred and moaned.

"Koriand'r!" Raven cried. She shoved Beast Boy aside and careened through the air, and landed in a stumble at Starfire's side.

The Tamaranian felt hot to the touch. A thin sheen of sweat clung to her golden skin, making Raven's hand clammy as she brushed Starfire's hair back. Starfire's face unclenched at Raven's touch. She looked up at Raven with a pleading look, and whispered, "Please…keep Gar back…"

Raven threw out her hand, pushing her soul-self through the air. It manifested in front of Beast Boy as a rectangular wall, which he struck chin-first at a dead run.

"Stay back, Garfield," Raven commanded, letting the wall dissipate. She ignored his pained grunt and turned back to Starfire. Smoothing back Starfire's damp hair, she opened her ethereal senses as wide as she dared, searching her friend for some sign of ailment. "Don't worry, Koriand'r. You're going to be all right."

Craning his neck and rubbing his jaw, Beast Boy strained to catch a glimpse of Starfire around Raven's pregnant shape. "What is it? I didn't—"

"Go get help," Raven snapped over her shoulder. "Now!" she shouted, bursting distant light fixtures with the force of her urgency.

As Beast Boy bolted toward Sickbay, Raven turned back to Starfire. Raven eased Starfire's hands onto her stomach, intertwining their fingers. With a deep breath to steel her nerves, the sorceress lowered her psychic walls, ready to magically siphon whatever was ailing her friend.

Readied for pain, Raven shook as a wash of ravenous heat poured into her through Starfire's touch. The sensation overcame her, consuming Raven's whole body with a throbbing fire.

She wrenched away from Starfire with a cry and fell back onto the floor, staring at Starfire's tensed face. The echo of Starfire's need rang in Raven's ears, as compelling as any feeling she had ever had for herself. "…Koriand'r?" she breathed. "What's happening to you?"

* * *

He staggered into the street, leaving silver footprints on the sidewalk. Glimmering motes rained from the hem of his lab coat, spattering across the curb behind him. Sweat poured down his face to become a metallic sheen that dribbled into his panting mouth.

Focus. He had to focus his thoughts. The only true miracle in existence, the only thing worth respecting, was cognizance. Each human was a spark of self-awareness wrapped in a treacherous, deteriorating shell of meat. But he had transcended such limitations. He had become cognizance itself, a being shaped by his own thoughts.

Yet he was incomplete. Something in his transcendence had gone awry. His mind struggled, and as a result his new body degenerated with each step he took. And so he had to keep his focus on a single goal.

An oncoming car screeched behind him, braking hard while he trudged in the middle of the lane. The sedan's wheel wells shrieked as it surged to a stop, its bumper mere inches from the back of his knees. The noise sapped his concentration, and with it the strength in his misshapen legs. As he turned to face the distraction, his balance gave out, forcing him to brace himself on the hood of the car.

A row of belligerent cars braked behind the stopped sedan, all of them honking in indignation. The downtown traffic coming from the other direction slowed to watch the spectacle of a single man bringing traffic to a dead stop.

The driver of the sedan rolled down his window and craned his head out of the car. "Hey! Are you nuts, walking in the street like that? You could have died!"

He sagged against the hood. His hands suffered for his lapse in concentration, losing more of themselves to the hot surface of the car. Fleshy matter drizzled between his fingers, turning silver as it trickled down the curve of the hood. Through his blurry vision, he saw the irate driver gape in shock at him, and realized that the rest of his features must have deteriorated as well.

Rearing back, he willed his hand into a sharpened pick, and then plunged the appendage through the hood. Its metal puckered noisily as his arm punched into the interior of the engine. His arm softened at once into a tendril, which he used to seek the battery of the car.

The motorist abandoned the car with a cry and stumbled toward the street. He ignored the insignificant pest, focusing instead on the flow of electricity he sapped from the battery. His thoughts sharpened, and his shape hardened, as the battery's charge drained into him.

Once more himself, Smith drew a ponderous, ultimately unnecessary breath. The air did nothing for his new body, but the familiar act helped him collect his thoughts.

Until he became whole, his new body would be a problem. He would need more electricity to keep himself powered, and more matter to replace the rapid loss of his material. At the rate he needed both, he would never make it to his destination intact.

As he drew his arm out of the hood, he looked over the top of the sedan and saw the long line of honking, stymied cars, each with its own battery and mass to spare. He looked past them, and saw the traffic lights of the intersection glowing with electrical connectivity, their alloys just begging to be broken down into available material.

Resolute, he pushed himself off of the hood and circled the sedan, flexing his hands in anticipation. Excess matter and power would compensate for the bleed rate of both, ensuring that he would reach his goal. He would reach the Stone boy and complete himself.

The honking grew louder, with angered shouts joining in. The protests of the afternoon's rush hour made Smith smile. These plebeians were mere distractions to be ignored. And should any of them insist upon being hindrances to his goal…

Well. People were miracles of cognizance wrapped in meat. And meat was just a form of matter. And he needed matter, regardless of its source.

* * *

Victor scratched at his chest through his sweatshirt, which stretched across his build, barely covering his navel, its sleeves squeezing his forearms above the wrist. The poor fit didn't surprise him, considering the borrowed nature of his clothes and the fact that he still stood wider and taller than anyone else on the team. The pants Raven had given him were worse. Their legs gave up halfway down his calves, leaving his ankles open to the breeze of the Compound's air conditioners.

As his fingernails dug through the soft gray fabric, he let his mind wander through the rest of his body. The simple sensation of clothes on his skin perplexed him. He had forgotten the subtle, confining feeling of being covered everywhere.

He felt his chest thumping under his fingertips. Pressing down, he followed the rapid beating of his heart, enthralled by the simple rhythm. A day ago, he could have accessed his hemotrolium pump, speeding it up or slowing it down as the stress of a situation required.

"Dude, are you okay?" Beast Boy asked, breaking Victor's spell.

Victor pulled his hand from his chest and looked down, spying Beast Boy's odd expression. Glancing self-consciously, he saw the rest of the Titans gathered outside of sickbay watching him with mixtures of concern and curiosity. He'd almost forgotten why his heart was racing. He dropped his hand and felt heat spread across his cheeks as he said, "It's…nothing."

"Man," Beast Boy swore, leaning back against the wall with his hands laced behind his head. "What the hell is up with karma? Are we just not allowed to have a good day?"

Folding his arms, Bushido said sagely, "The universe is an indifferent, impartial arbiter, Gar. It does not play favorites."

"Maybe it should go 'not play favorites' with someone else for a change," she shapeshifter grumbled.

Seated cross-legged on the floor, Raven cracked a single eye to glare at the grumbler. "Koriand'r was doing fine until you kissed her. Do you think maybe there's a correlation there?"

"For the millionth time," Beast Boy groaned, and rubbed his face, "I barely even remember it. Something came over me, like a…like mind control, or something. Hey! Could that be it? Maybe something's messing with our heads! That could be what's making Kory sick!"

Tek patted her fingertips across her head, frowning. "My head feels okay. I mean, it's still messed up, but no more than usual. Did you really kiss Kory, Gar? I didn't think you—"

"I don't!" he exploded, making Tek flinch. "At least, I didn't think I did. Not that she isn't cute as a puppy's buttons and all, but I'm not…" He growled in frustration, clutching his hair. "This doesn't make any sense. And it's making my head hurt."

"It's called 'thinking,'" Raven told him, closing her eyelid to resume her silent meditation. "It's what you weren't doing when you accosted Koriand'r."

Victor felt his pulse rising at the anger crisscrossing between the pair. The mild excitement made his head swim, forcing him to lean back against the wall. Shaking himself lucid, he snapped, "Everybody just calm down. Doctor Brown took care of Kory for six months. If anyone can figure out what's wrong with her—"

He let the thought finish itself as Sickbay's doors opened. The Titans leapt into a circle around the door, barely affording Doctor Brown enough room to exit. She pressed them back with an upraised hand, and collected her thoughts with a sigh.

"Koriand'r is going to be fine," she said. "She's resting now. I've put her on a saline drip and given her a mild sedative to help her relax."

Grateful relief held their questions at bay for nearly half a second. Then they bombarded Brown with inquiry. They clamored all at once with such volume that Brown held up her hand again until she could hear herself think. She massaged the bridge of her nose, and said, "One at a time, at a reasonable volume, please."

"What happened to her?" Tek blurted. "Did she get hurt this morning?"

"Was it something I brought back?" Victor asked with sinking fear. "Could whatever changed me be attacking Kory?"

"Did something happen with her mouth…area…?" Beast Boy asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No, and no," Brown told Tek and Victor. With a glance askance at Beast Boy, she added, "and a third, somewhat confused, 'no.' Koriand'r isn't suffering from any sort of malady, per se. She…"

Brown's hesitance made Victor frown. "Doc, whatever it is, we can handle it. I guarantee, it can't be the weirdest thing we've heard today," he said with a note of chagrin, and looked down at his own hands. Sobering, he added, "Kory's our friend. If something's wrong, we have to know. We'll do whatever it takes to help her. Please."

"Koriand'r is in heat," Brown told them.

The Titans met the news with glassy stares and quizzical frowns. Bushido merely tapped his chin at the news. Raven stood by, silently considering Sickbay's doors, her gaze hard and piercing. Victor glanced to either side, and then dug his pinky into the recesses of his new ear. It came out waxy, but otherwise fine. "Did you just say...?"

"Heat? Not…not like 'temperature' heat, right? Like, she's not running a fever, she's…" Tek trailed off, turning beet red. She tried to turtle her head down between her shoulders.

"Her hormone production is characteristic of an estrus phase," Doctor Brown said. Sighing, she added, "This is well beyond my field of expertise…as is so much of what you bring to my attention. But from my experience with Koriand'r's physiology, I can say with modest certainty that Tamaranians do not menstruate like humans do."

Raven and Tek shared glances of confusion, while Victor and Beast Boy squirmed at the word "menstruate." Bushido, however, lifted his eyebrow in interest. "Fascinating, especially in that we never considered the possibility, given the available contrast," he noted with a wry glance to the pair at his side. They offered him irritated glares in return. "But why wouldn't she…?"

Heaving another sigh, Brown said, "If I had to offer a hypothesis at the moment, I would posit that Tamaranians evolved from some form of feline. Hence, and estrous cycle instead of a menstruation cycle. Her body reabsorbs its uterine lining during each—"

"Nyah-ah! Okay! That's more than plenty enough too-much-information." Beast Boy shouted, waving his hands. "If I wanted to know more about that kind of stuff, I wouldn't have slept through The Vagina Monologues."

Raven's hand upbraided the back of Beast Boy's head. Then she asked Brown, "You're sure she's okay? Would something like that make her lose consciousness? Or could it have been something else?" she asked, and shot Beast Boy a venomous look.

"She's physically fine," Brown explained. "Her fainting seemed to have been caused by an undue amount of stress, probably brought on by the sudden biochemical and emotional changes in her body compounded with the fact that you kids continually insist on throwing yourselves in front of danger."

Tek fidgeted, still beet-red. She could not bring herself to lift her eyes above Brown's shoes, let alone meet the doctor's gaze. "Is there…something we can do for her?"

"Probably, but nothing I can recommend in good conscience to minors," Brown said with an arched eyebrow. "Let her rest, keep her calm and stress-free, and she should be her old self again in no time."

"Thanks, Doc," Victor said.

She jabbed his broad chest with a scathing finger, and said, "Do not think for even one second that this little crisis of Koriand'r's has made me forget about you. You will not set one foot outside of this Compound. You would still be in there if not for your Y-chromosome," she snapped, and pointed at Sickbay.

He raised his hands. "I—"

"No. You stay. You lie down. You do absolutely nothing to strain yourself in any way, mentally or physically. I will be back tomorrow with three trucks filled to the very brim with analytical equipment," Brown told him. "We are going to test and test and test and test you until I am one hundred percent certain I know just what the hell has happened, and that you are going to be all right."

"But—"

Her look snapped his jaw shut. Sweeping her blistering gaze across the rest of the Titans, she said, "Not one foot outside of this building. If his littlest toe so much as crosses that threshold, I will hold the rest of you personally responsible. And powers or no powers, I will make you all regret it."

Tek jumped forward and trapped Victor's arm in a hug. "Don't worry, Doctor Brown. Vic's going to take it easy until you say otherwise." As Victor tried to protest again, she added, "And he can't argue, because I can beat him up super-easy now. Isn't that right?" she asked him sweetly.

Doctor Brown imparted one final look of warning upon them, and then clipped out of the security door. The thick hatch swung shut behind her, hissing as it locked.

Tugging on Victor's arm, Tek said, "You heard her, big guy. C'mon, let's go put that new digestive tract of yours to the test. You need to keep up your strength, and I think there're a few leftover burgers in the fridge that could help with that."

Victor frowned in thought, ignoring her insistent tugs. He glanced back across Sector Prime, and then down at his own hand. Clenching his fist, he looked up suddenly, and said, "Wait a minute. Where in the hell…?"

Without warning, he broke out of Tek's grasp and marched down the length of Sector Prime. His bare footfalls echoed across the hall. Stunned, Tek watched him go, and then ran after him, crying for him to slow down.

Raven rolled her eyes at the wayward pair. When she turned back to Sickbay's doors, she saw two unwelcome sights drifting toward its doors. A wall of soul-self flew from her hand to bar their way. "Absolutely not," she told Bushido and Beast Boy.

Bushido turned, his face stricken with mild disappointment. "We have the opportunity to learn firsthand about extraterrestrial physiology. As a developing member of the intergalactic community, isn't it important that we, as earthlings, learn about our differences and similarities with other sentient species?"

"I just want to make sure she's okay," Beast Boy pleaded. "I mean, she fainted right after I… I just want her to know that I'm sorry, and that I never meant to—"

"No," Raven said flatly, and folded her arms. Her soul-wall dissipated as she fixed each of them with a look. "I don't care how curious you are," she told Bushido, and then swung her cold eyes upon Beast Boy to add, "or how horny 'you' are. Sickbay just became women-only until I tell you otherwise."

Beast Boy's ears drooped. He slunk back, shrinking from Raven's glare. Bushido merely nodded in acquiescence. "I'll respect your wishes, galactically shortsighted though they might be."

Rolling her eyes again, Raven stalked into Sickbay. She pointedly ignored the hurt green gaze following her into the chamber, and slapped the doors closed.

Shucked from her boots and bracers, Starfire lay atop one of the biobeds. Her vital signs pulsed softly in the panel above her bed, which pipped to the tempo of her heartbeat. The pipping quickened as Starfire twisted her head away from the closing doors, curtaining her face behind her hair.

"Please go away," Starfire whispered as Raven waddled to her bedside.

Raven tapped the biobed's display. She didn't fully understand its readings, but the numbers remained a healthy, steadfast green, which meant the computer considered Starfire's vitals acceptable. "I don't plan on staying long," Raven grunted.

"I do not wish to be seen," croaked Starfire, still averting her features from Raven.

Puckering her face, Raven glanced at the back of Starfire's head. "With a uniform like that, I didn't think exhibition was a problem of yours," she said. The sorceress scrolled through a series of displays on the readout, and continued, "Look, I'm the last person to talk about team spirit. But this reticent act you've been putting on since you came back is starting to infringe on my trademark demeanor."

Starfire refused to reply. She curled onto her side, drawing her knees up toward her chest to distance herself from Raven.

She rested her hand atop Starfire's pillow, waiting for any sign of change from Starfire. Somberly, she said, "I don't care what Doctor Brown said. You're not well, and you need to let us help you. You could at least stop hating us long enough for us to…"

A wet, soft gasp shook Starfire's shoulders, and made Raven pull her hand back in surprise. Raven staggered at a sudden, torrential despair that roiled up from Starfire's spirit. The despair festered in the air between them, smelling stale to Raven's ethereal senses, as though Starfire's very feelings had been bottled and aged for a short eternity. Wisps of other emotions broke through the thick cloud hovering around them, none so strong as a sense of humiliation that seeped through Raven's psychic walls.

"Koriand'r?" Raven whispered. "Are you…embarrassed?"

Starfire rolled over on the bed, facing Raven at last. Tears cut her cheeks as she hugged her chest. "I am ashamed," she said, her voice shaking.

"About this?"

"About everything!" Starfire snapped. Furious, she scoured her face with the back of her arm, drying her scowl. "I tried to be strong. I felt my Quickening approach, and I knew there was nothing I could—"

Raven held up a hand. "Whoa. Slow down a minute. Quickening? Is that what Doctor Brown told us about?"

Reddening, Starfire nodded. "The women of my planet Quicken once each year. There is some matter of ritual and tradition, though not to the degree to which earthlings might ascribe such a…occurrence."

With a rueful look, Raven asked, "They don't all go through it at the same time, do they?"

"No. It can differ between individuals. It is typically seen as the last hurdle to physical maturation." Starfire's eyes dropped as she considered her body stretched across the biobed. "With training and focus, a warrior can overcome the biological imperatives of the Quickening. But the first time is…difficult. New, and unfamiliar. Not many are capable of overcoming the needs of their first Quickening. But I thought that I…"

Raven watched Starfire trail off into silence. "You thought that by bottling up like that, you could keep this 'Quickening' from overwhelming you. That's why you've been so withdrawn the past few months, hasn't it?"

In a small voice, Starfire said, "That is…part of it." Her eyes welled again, forcing her to blink hard. "After my failure with Robin, I wanted…I needed to be strong again. And for a time, I felt as though I could outlast this physical inconvenience. But seeing him again…"

A soft snort flared Raven's nose. She rested a hand on her belly, and said, "If there's one thing I've learned the hard way, it's that hormones always win in the end. Especially if you think you have them under wraps."

Starfire's cheeks dimpled for the first time since her return. The sight of her friend's smile warmed Raven far more than she ever thought such a simple gesture could.

But the smile vanished too quickly, replaced with worry that filled Raven's otherworldly senses. "I failed. I am now as weak as I ever was," she muttered, and massaged the bridge of her nose. "Bedridden and helpless again. I have shamed myself in front of my dearest friends."

"Get over yourself," Raven said, snapping Starfire's eyes wide open. "Everyone under this roof has lost face. Beast Boy is a veritable fountain of embarrassment for himself and everyone around him. Victor just flashed all of us not half an hour ago. I once caught Ryuko crying during a cable showing of 'You've Got Mail.' Allison can't go twelve minutes without blushing about something stupid. And you know those pants Victor is wearing? Those are mine…and the waist is too big on him."

"…you are right, of course," Starfire said with a sigh. "I just cannot help but feel—"

"You're the strongest, bravest girl I've ever known. Oftentimes to annoying extents. And I've never thought otherwise for a second," Raven said flatly. "You ask anyone outside. I would bet every pair of maternity pants in my closet that they'd all say the same thing."

Starfire's smile returned, halved. "If you are so certain, why not wager something to which you ascribe real value?"

Raven's eyebrow bounced. "I said they were embarrassing. I didn't say they weren't comfortable."

Starfire lay back, closing her eyes. Sweat began to bead on her golden forehead. ""I am so, so sorry, Raven. I have been a terrible friend," she said.

Lumbering to the small sink at the counter, Raven wetted a paper towel from the wall dispenser. She wrung it out, saying, "I think you'll be okay. Everyone will understand. Some of the boys might crack a few jokes, but that's only because they're idiots."

"No," Starfire said, as Raven returned to her side. "I have been a terrible friend to you. I kissed Gar. I have come between you both, and feel awful as a result. My stomachs have not stopped churning since."

"Anyone who kisses Beast Boy is going to feel awful," Raven said, and dabbed at Starfire's forehead. Then she froze. Her hand clenched, wringing droplets into Starfire's eyes with the inadvertent motion. "What do you mean, 'between' us?"

Starfire blinked. "I—"

"No. Just 'no,' Koriand'r. If you want him, you can have him," Raven said. She mopped up the stray droplets on Starfire's face.

"I do not believe there was any real physical attraction," Starfire explained. "The Quickening induces a release of pheromones in Tamaranian females. I did not think humans could detect such a change, but it seems at least one of them can. And after the way you acted after the kiss, I feared the worst. Especially considering how close you both have become," Starfire said, and flinched at Raven's swiping towel.

"I didn't act any…" Raven paused, and recalled her reaction to Starfire's kiss with Beast Boy. It hadn't seemed unusual to her then, and still didn't.

But as she considered the moment, forcing herself to replay the events objectively, Raven saw an inkling of what Starfire saw. She continued on, recalling each moment with Beast Boy up to that very moment. A realization struck her with such force as to make her shudder. She buried the thought deep, leaving it for a much later date, and turned back to Starfire.

"What about you, anyway?" Raven asked. "I know you wanted to look strong, but you have to know that none of us ever thought you were weak. Not even for a second. And especially not for…this. Why work so hard on fighting something you don't have to fight? It seems like a waste of energy."

Starfire's expression darkened. She turned away again, her muscles tensing as she hugged herself again.

Raven tossed the paper towel in the medical waste box on the wall nearby. "I could go get him if you want," she said.

"No!" Starfire cried, grasping the edges of her bed as she flung herself upright. She saw Raven motionless at the wall, and calmed. "No," she said. "Please keep him out of here. I do not wish to see him."

* * *

"Why the hell aren't you down there?"

Victor's shout filled the Bay, rebounding across the walls and the skeletal vehicles parked inside. The reverberant question made Robin look up from his bike, which he had parked in the shadow of the unrepaired Icarus. He watched Victor stalk into the Bay, and then returned his attention to the gas pump hooked into the bike.

Tek scrambled through the closing hatch. She chased after Victor, and said, "Um, Vic? Remember what Doctor Brown said? This kind of seems like the opposite of all that relaxing and not-stressing that she told you to—"

"You two-faced, tousle-headed, shrimpy son of a bitch! Get your ass down to that sickbay!" Victor bellowed.

"I see you're feeling better. I helped myself to some gasoline. Didn't think you'd mind," Robin said. He hauled the nozzle out of his bike and capped its tank. The cap retracted back into the bike's armor, where a panel slid to hide it from exposure.

Stomping to the other side of the bike, Victor snapped, "No, I don't mind. What I do mind is you bugging out without so much as a goodbye while Kory's in her sickbed! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Robin met the outburst with a calm, empty flash of his mask. "Is she going to be all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, but she—" Victor began.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Robin butted in coolly.

His face wrenching with frustration, Victor said, "It would do her a world of good if she saw another friendly—"

"So, 'no.' Then it's time for me to go," Robin said. He leaned down and ducked his cropped hair into his helmet. Clasping its strap under his chin, he gave the pair a nod, and then swung his leg over the bike.

Victor planted his bare foot on the Redbird's armored fender as its engine roared to life. Reaching down, he twisted Robin's hand, forcing the throttle back and squeezing the brake. "You're not driving away from me, dude," Victor snapped.

"I think what Vic means is that he'd really like for you to stay," Tek said quickly.

Lifting the visor of his helmet, Robin leveled his mask at Victor's scowl. "You need to get your foot off my bike. Right. Now."

"What Tim means is, you don't need to sound so aggressive," Tek stammered to Victor with a waning smile. "I mean, we're all friends here."

"You get your ass back downstairs, and you stay put until I say you can go," Victor said.

"We need your help, because things have been so crazy, and we're a little short-staffed at the moment," squeaked Tek. "Everybody's gotta pitch in, right?"

Robin crossed his arms. "I'm not on your team. I'm not on anyone's team."

"But he sure is happy to help out! Remember how he saved your life, sort of, just a few hours ago?" Tek said.

Victor ignored her, leaning down across the Redbird's handlebars. "I had you pegged as an obsessive asshole, man. But I didn't think you were totally self-centered, too. Don't you even care about your friends anymore? Why did you even come back?"

"I think—" Tek began.

"You want some help? Fine." Robin whipped his cape aside and dug into his utility belt. He drew out a crumpled metal shard, which he tossed to Victor. "Here's some advice: step back from your team for a second and take a long look in the mirror, Vic. You've got bigger issues than a sick Tamaranian and a staffing shortage."

As Victor bobbled the metal shard, Robin slammed his helmet visor back down, and gunned the Redbird's engine. The roar startled Victor off of the bike. Twisting the throttle, Robin peeled a black track on the floor as he shot forward. He spun down the Bay's exit ramp, disappearing from sight around the tight turn. The distant sound of the automated ramp at the end of the tunnel swallowed the Redbird's peal.

Tek and Victor stared at the empty Bay ramp, the latter lost in furious thought, and the former too nervous to speak. Finally, Tek ventured, "I think what he meant was—"

"Skip it, kid. I know exactly what he meant," Victor said. Then he spun on his heel and marched out of the Bay.

Tek caught up to him in the corridor leading back to Sector Prime. "Vic, wait! He wasn't exactly wrong, you know. He was a jerk about it, yeah, but…" she called after him.

"Don't go there, Allie," Victor said to the corridor ahead of him.

She ran around him, and backpedaled in front of him with her arms outstretched. "Would you please stop for a minute? You've been go-go-go all day now!"

"Who's on monitor duty right now? I should check in and…" He stared at his left arm for a moment, and then shook his head clear with a growl.

Tek braked suddenly, forcing him to a stop. He just avoided plowing through her sour expression by the tips of his toes. Tek glared, and said, "I turned the TroubAlert system off."

"You what?" Victor exclaimed.

He pushed past her, stalking down the corridor at a furious pace. Jogging after him, Tek snapped, "Vic, we have enough to deal with right now without looking for more trouble!"

"We have a responsibility to this city," Victor said.

"Stop it!"

Tek's shrill command froze Victor at the edge of Sector Prime. He turned, and felt a jolt of surprise at the anger glimmering in Tek's glare. The metal shard bit his palm as his fists clenched.

Throwing up her hands, Tek exclaimed, "What in hell is wrong with you, Vic? Look at yourself! Look what happened to you today? And you're worried about Kory? You're worried about the city?"

"Kory's my friend! And the city needs us," he insisted.

"Let us worry about Kory! Let us worry about the city!" Tek shouted, twisting her whole body with the force of her voice. Her face flushed red as she stamped her foot with each sentence. "Stop acting like you're okay! You're made of tiny robots! You're all fleshy and gorgeous and humany, and you don't even care! What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me!" Victor shouted back, and pounded the wall with his fist. "Something happened. Fine. I'll figure it out later! I'm still part of this team, and I'm gonna do my job, whether you like it or not!"

"Augh!" Grasping her hair, Tek spun and marched away, growling through her teeth. Snatches of actual language emerged through her gnashing rant. Victor clearly heard his name, along with several unflattering adjectives that made him cringe.

Groaning, Victor made his way up to Ops. The balcony was empty and dark, its holographic map absent. The console screens sat blank until he plopped down into the center seat.

As he reached for the keyboard, he saw red on his fingers. He paused, opening his hand. The shard Robin had given him sat in his palm, smeared in blood. The shard peeled out of his stinging hand, revealing a pair of shallow, oozing cuts underneath. He flexed his hand, hissing at the sting. The blood trickled across the lines in his hand, trailing back to his wrist to tickle the skin on his arm.

He lowered his palm, stricken by the sight of it, and looked to the shard instead. It took Victor a moment to recognize the metallic fragment as part of the canister that had held his father's project. A shred of whitish sticker clung to the fragment, containing a sliver of the canister's label.

A single whole word had survived the label's tearing. The rest of its information had survived only in fragments beginning or ending at the shred's edge. Victor wiped the label with his thumb, and read the unfamiliar word aloud. "Technis…"

"What's that? A new trance band?"

Beast Boy's voice turned Victor in his seat. He found the shapeshifter leaned against the wall, his shoulder resting underneath the Titans' sigil inscribed into the metal paneling. A curious look lifted Beast Boy's eyebrows as he laced his hands behind his head.

"It's…nothing," Victor decided. He tossed the shard onto the console and swiveled around. "What are you doing up here? You're not on duty."

"I'm just hiding. I don't want to name any names, but a certain pregnant hurricane is gunning for me, and not in any good ways. I figure if I keep my head down, maybe she'll forget why she was mad at me." Groaning, Beast Boy added, "Not like I can figure out what I did, anyway. But it must have been big. She hasn't been this mad since I accidentally used her book as a napkin."

"Girls, huh?" Victor said, and sank back into his seat. "Allie is mad at me for just doing what I do. She thinks this whole thing today should have me freaking out like she is."

"Heh." Beast Boy swiped his nose, chuckling along with Victor. He sighed, and said, "Uh, Vic? Why aren't you?"

"Hmm?"

"Why aren't you freaking out?" Beast Boy asked. "I mean, sure, miracles happen to us all the time, blah, blah, blah. But, uh, this is huge. This is huger than huge, it's ginormous. And you're not even acting like you got a new haircut or anything."

Victor rolled his eyes, swiveling away. "Oh, hell. Not you too, Salad Head. I do not need this right now."

Beast Boy pushed off the wall. "Yeah, you kind of do. You got your body back, dude. Dance a jig. Go poop for the first time in three years. This is a big deal. It's gonna change everything for you."

"This doesn't change anything!" Victor growled. He mashed the console keyboard with his palm, leaving a bloody handprint as the screen flashed online. "I'm not going anywhere. Just leave it alone."

Frowning, Beast Boy said, "Yeah. Okay, Vic."

The moment turned to uncomfortable silence as neither could think of anything to say. Seeing his friend fidget, Victor said, "So did you seriously kiss Kory? That seems so…wow."

Rifling his green hair, Beast Boy said, "Yeah. I barely remember anything. She came around, and then there were legs, and boobs, and hair, and a really sweet perfume, and the next thing I know, Raven's there to catch our tongues mixing it up. I feel so stupid, but I don't even know how it happened."

Victor blew a long breath through his nose. "That's rough, dude. Why do you suppose Raven's so pissed at you?"

"Search me. Maybe if I just apologize, she'll lay off."

Turning back to the console, Victor shook his head. "A blind apology? Risky."

Beast Boy chuckled. "Dude, now that you've got your pivot wrench back, let the Doctor of Love clue you in to a little secret. It doesn't matter what an apology is for, as long as you make it sound super-sincere. Girls just care about you giving in, they don't care why."

Victor snorted. "Yeah, fake sincerity is always the way to—"

The instant he touched the keyboard, reactivating the Alert system, a terrible klaxon filled Ops. Both teens jolted as the holographic map flashed into existence over their heads. The map blurred and zoomed, expanding to fill the air with a diagram of a single city block.

A large, beacon flashed in the street map above Beast Boy, painting his wide eyes red with its urgency. "Dude, what the hell is that?" he exclaimed.

Victor hammered the console keyboard. Details flashed past his screen. As he read, frustrated by the sluggishness of his new eyes, he said, "I don't know, but look where it is."

Beast Boy followed Victor's pointing finger. Further up the holographic street from the red beacon sat a representation of Titans Compound. The beacon flashed less than three blocks away from the Compound's lobby entrance. As the two Titans watched, the beacon crawled closer.

"Right on our doorstep. Of course it is," Beast Boy grumbled.

**To Be Continued**

**

* * *

**


	35. Technis: Test

**

* * *

Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Technis**: _Test_

Victor stepped off of the wall and lurched out onto the floor of Sector Prime, fighting down the bile in his throat. The Fast Action Level Lift he had rode down from Ops retracted back into its housing. "No wonder everybody hates those things," he muttered, and burped.

His inner ear swam with vertigo from the rapid descent. His stomach tingled and his legs wobbled. As he righted himself and ran for the distant security door, he watched a green eagle soar ahead of him, and grimaced.

Sickbay's doors opened as he barreled past. Starfire emerged, her pallid golden skin painted in the pulsing blood light of the Alert. She straightened the straps of her armor as she ran into step next to Victor.

"Hell no," Victor puffed, struggling to find air enough to snap at her. "Get back to bed, Kory."

Green defiance glowed in Starfire's narrowed eyes. "I am fit for battle. I invite you to try and stop me if you disagree," she said, flashing Victor a humorless smile.

They reached the security door a moment later. Beast Boy had reverted at the control panel, pounding on its keypad with a frustrated hand. He finally thumbed the right sequence into the pad, and backed away as the massive door unsealed with a hiss.

Starfire couldn't stop fast enough, and collided with Beast Boy as he backed out of the door's way. Beast Boy's apology died in his throat when he saw who it was he had bumped. "Oh! Kory…hey."

The defiant spark in Starfire's eyes faded, replaced with humiliation as her gaze trailed to the floor. Through the din of the klaxon, her voice came meekly and distant. "H-Hello, Gar."

His pointed ears drooped. "Hey, c'mon…I don't want us to be weird, okay? I'm really sorry about what happened—"

"No," she said quickly. "The fault was mine entirely. I apologize—"

Victor leaned on his knees and gulped to fill his aching lungs. "Could you guys save your Kodak moment for later?" he snapped. "We've got a city that needs saving."

"Meathead is right," Beast Boy said, and smiled. "Besides, I don't need any kind of apology from you, Kory."

She returned his smile, beaming with gratitude. "Nor I from you," she agreed, and took his hand. "You are my very good friend. I would hate for anything so base to come between…us…"

"It would be pretty…silly…" Beast Boy said, trailing off.

His pupils dilated, swallowing up her luminous smile. His nostrils flared, and his breathing sharpened. Starfire's thumb made circles on the back of his hand as their grasp tightened. A tremble ran between them.

Victor stared at the pair as they mooned at each other through the flashing, blaring Alert. "You have got to be kidding me," he huffed, and panted.

A cold shower fell from the Compound's upper levels wearing sweat pants and a Green Lantern shirt stretched over her stomach. She carried a dark blue cloak draped over her arm, and startled Beast Boy and Starfire apart with an irritated look. "I will find a hose," Raven warned them both.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Victor barked at her, finally finding breath enough to straighten.

She swept her cloak over her shoulders, draping her mundane clothes in a swath of navy mystery. "You said I get three hours of monitor duty. I'm starting my shift now, and I intend to monitor whatever situation is making this racket."

Victor loomed over Raven with folded arms. "Raven, there is no way—!"

"—that you're going out in the field? I agree," Raven said coolly.

Bushido dropped from the second level, landing in a crouch next to Victor and his gnashing teeth. "What is the emergency? My communicator was unforthcoming with the details. And shouldn't you be resting?" he added, lifting his eyebrow at Victor.

"Would everyone stop treating me like I'm—?"

Victor's snarl faltered as the floor shook. Tek landed behind him, dwarfing his broad frame with her armor. "Vic," she said, her tinny voice brusque, "you should probably get to Ops if you're gonna run the show."

A knowing look brightened in Bushido's eyes as he caught on. "Absolutely. Our lack of intelligence could spell disaster for us," he agreed.

"Mine always lands me in trouble," Beast Boy said.

Hooking her communicator on the thin violet strip around her waist, Starfire said, "We will maintain an open channel to Ops to facilitate coordination." She tapped the device's side, making its emblem flash with activation.

Victor's eye ticced. Their paper-thin facades didn't fool him for a second.

Then he looked down at himself, at the borrowed sweat clothes stretched over untested muscle. In the three years since his accident, he had been shot with every kind of weapon he could think of, and punched by enemies capable of tearing cars in half with their bare hands, and slammed through reinforced concrete. All of those trials had hurt enough through his implants and armor. And whatever had happened to him earlier that day, he didn't want to count on it happening again.

He gritted his teeth, to the point where he thought his molars would crack. "Stay together, and stay sharp," he said, meeting each of their gazes with a hard look. "Keep your ears open. I'll do what I can from here."

They nodded as one, and then rushed through the security door. Victor watched them funnel through the lobby's doors before forcing himself to turn back toward Ops. Aching legs and burning lungs weren't going to stop him from doing what he could to help his friends.

* * *

Sunset blazed, peering between the shadows of the skyscrapers. The streetlights flickered on in sequence. Distant sounds blended together into a murmur of turmoil. It was a sound the city had become familiar with, one that each of the Titans could easily, wearily recognize.

"He's going to freaking kill himself!" Beast Boy snapped. He cleared the sidewalk outside of the lobby's doors and then fell onto his hands. A snort split his muzzle as his shape poured into that of a lithe green gazelle. Clopping his hooves, he hurtled down the empty street.

Bushido rode atop Tek's shoulders, gripping the crest of her helmet. "Victor's ordeal is worrying, but perhaps now is not the right time," he shouted above the din of Tek's thunderous sprint, which left a trail of cratered footprints in her wake.

"Ryuko is right," Raven said, pacing the others in the air. "We have more important worries right now."

"Nothing is more important than Vic," Tek snapped.

The tight group of Titans backpedaled hard, and scattered out of the shadow of a spiraling city bus. Ten tons of public transit slammed grille-first into the street where they had been, mashing the pavement flat with a cacophonous spray of glass and rending metal. The upended bus skidded, tilted, and finished its flip, smashing onto its roof. It groaned to a halt ten yards behind the startled Titans.

Bushido glanced at the upended bus, and then followed its trajectory back to its source. His eyebrow twitched. "You might want to consider reprioritizing, Allie," he deadpanned.

It loomed. The surface of its silvery mass topped the buildings around them, and filled both lanes of the street. Half its lower mass schluffed forward, rolling across the pavement, seeping into cracks and potholes. Then its other half schluffed ahead, as though in a shuffling walk. Abandoned cars in its path were tossed aside by thick tendrils extended from its mass as it continued toward the end of the street, where the cheery lobby of the Compound waited.

The gazelle reared on its hind legs, and shrank into an astonished Beast Boy. "Okay, I know our lives are usually screwed up," he murmured, gazing up at the oncoming, shapeless, enormous behemoth. "But seriously? God damn…"

A tendril whipped out and lashed around a parked Prius at the curb. With an effortless jerk, the tendril flung the car out of its way. The car nosedived through the window of boutique, honking in death as its front half crumpled.

Tek winced with her whole body at the car's knell. "What the hell is this thing?" she asked.

The inferno coursing through Starfire's body bled into her eyes, where it sparked into a luminous scowl. It pulsed in her hands, making lanterns of her fists. "I do not care," she growled, "so long as it burns."

* * *

Traffic stood at a dead, honking standstill. The four-lane one-way out of the downtown area sat, bumpers kissing, drivers shouting and furious. Robin angled his bike between the lanes and forced himself not to notice.

Traffic jams happened for all sorts of reasons, he knew. It didn't necessarily indicate an emergency, even if people seemed more fearful than agitated at being stuck in their cars.

He gripped the throttle, keeping the Redbird balanced on the white lines. Traffic didn't matter. All that mattered was putting as much distance between him and the city as he could. For the life of him, he couldn't remember why he had come back in the first place.

He hadn't, really. Not on purpose. His coming back to California had just been a natural progression of casework since leaving Titans Lair. Backtracking that ring of metagene growth hormone—Gigastim—peddlers had taken him to the Midwest. The Gigastim ring, in turn, had clued him to the existence of a small cartel of metahuman traffickers and their trading with Triad sweatshops. And when he had broken the spine of the cartel—and the legs of its leader—in LA, he had caught wind of an important S.T.A.R. Labs shipment with links to the Titans…a tempting target for any of the Titans' myriad of nemeses.

The work had brought him back. He hadn't wanted to come. And it was past time for him to leave.

A tremor shook his handlebars. Robin checked the bike's display for an explanation before he noticed the rattling of the cars around him. Peoples' shouts grew panicked. He eased the Redbird's throttle back.

No. Earthquakes happened. A little tremor like that one meant almost nothing. He gritted his teeth and cranked the throttle, drowning out the rumble with the sound of the engine. Jump City had municipal countermeasures for any sort of emergency and a bevy of heroes at its beck and call. He would only be in the way. He needed to leave.

A second tremor struck, worse than before. In his rearview mirror, Robin watched a plume of dust rise above the city line. The air rumbled, resonating deep in his chest.

Robin mashed the Redbird's brakes as car doors flew open. The stranded commuters spilled out of their cars. Some ran to the sidewalks to flee from the distant cloud. Other stood in amazement. A few looked to Robin, silent questions etched into their panic.

Trapped between cars, Robin dismounted his bike and ducked out of his helmet to stare at the dust cloud. The tremors continued, too sharp and localized to be anything natural. Flashes of light trailed through the cloud in staccato bursts.

His fist clenched until it hurt. "Redbird," he snapped in a commanding tone, "release Redtail assembly and prep for launch."

The rear section of his bike shuddered. Everything behind the Redbird's seat above the wheel rotated upward. Its sweeping wings folded out, nearly punching through the windows of the cars around it. As the section folded up, revealing a pair of oversized thrusters, Robin donned his helmet again, hiding his scowl behind its visor.

* * *

"This usually works a lot better!" Tek cried.

She backed toward the Compound, her armor blazing in the muzzle flare of her repeating cannons. The weapons' heat seeped through her armor and seared her forearms. Tears blotted her eyes, blurring her helmet's HUD. Even still, she knew she was losing.

The creature undulated after Tek at alarming speeds. Its silvery mass suffered little from her barrage. Wherever her plasma bolts tracked, the creature simply altered its shape, allowing the bolts to pass around it, or even through it. One or two bolts would glance off its surface before it moved out of her bolts' way.

Green fire rained from the roof of a nearby delicatessen. The flanking bolts caught the creature unaware and struck deep in its central mass. Silver smoke hissed from its skin, but the creature showed no signs of slowing.

Starfire leaned over the rooftop's edge and doubled her efforts. A starwave beam poured from her hands. Where the creature did not ooze around her fire, it simply ignored it. "We must find a way to hurt it!" she bellowed.

As Tek continued to back away, she saw Beast Boy sprint past her, charging the creature. "Cool your flashing, Titanettes. I'm gonna take this one head-on," he called.

The Titans' barrage ceased as Beast Boy filled the street with the bulk of a triceratops. His horns plunged into the creature's mass, spattering the neighborhood in metallic gore. The green dinosaur's sheer momentum arrested the creature's approach. For one brief second, the creature stopped against the lowered frill around Beast Boy's head.

With a horrifying slurp, the creature's edges enveloped Beast Boy, spilling over his leathery hide. Quicksilver tendrils wrapped his stout legs. Screeching, Beast Boy shrank his colossal shape into that of a sparrow to flit from the creature's grasp. It closed around him faster than he could shrink. He trilled in alarm, and ballooned into a pterodactyl, jetting against the creature's hold with a thrust of his wings. All but his clawed feet pulled free, slamming him against the pavement.

His beak became a terrified face as the tendrils drew him back into the creature. "Tackling was so the wrong way to go on this one," he yelped, and dragged his claws through the street.

He felt a breeze behind him. Then the coils around his legs slackened. Flipping himself over, Beast Boy saw Bushido standing over two stumped tentacles, his katana bathed in metallic gore. The swordsman kicked deftly at Beast Boy's legs, splattering the dismembered tendrils.

"Quickly," Bushido snapped. "I don't—"

The tentacle stumps grew new ends. They lashed around Bushido and yanked him off his feet, drawing him through the air toward the creature's center. Beast Boy cried out, but a thick tendril smashed at him, forcing him to slither away as a snake or be crushed into the pavement.

His arms pinned, Bushido grasped the hilt of his katana and closed his eyes. For an interminable moment, he hung in the creature's grasp. The shouts of his allies grew distant, drowned out by the sheer emptiness roaring at him from his hand.

"Why not now?" he whispered to the emptiness. "I cannot do this alone. Why not now?" He opened his eyes, and saw them reflected in the blade. "Please…"

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!"

Black blades of ether rolled across the creature's front, mowing its tentacles into sodden chunks. The tendrils carrying Bushido melted, dropping him to the street in a crouch. He raised his blade against a swarm of new tendrils rising toward him, only to watch the thin appendages be crushed under a soul-self steamroller.

"I don't think cutting it will help," Raven said, landing next to Bushido. "Blasting it isn't getting us anywhere either. Or hitting it."

"Unfortunately, those are our strong suits," Bushido said, and sheathed his katana.

Raven's hand drifted to the communicator at her waist. Sunset burned in her knit twilight brows. "Victor, we can't contain it. It's too big, and it seems to be heading straight for the Compound. And there's something else…"

* * *

Victor watched his console screen, resting his chin against his fist. The external cameras of the Compound's security grid fed Ops with a live accounting of his friends' difficulties.

The sight of the shapeless behemoth churned his stomach. "I think I see it. That's what I looked like, isn't it?" he said.

"_You mean four hours ago? Yes,_" Raven replied.

"_You're a lot prettier now,_" Beast Boy added.

The screen split at Victor's typed command. Working so slowly frustrated him. He wasn't a poor typist, but compared to sifting through code with his mind, even the simplest task on the computer felt sluggish.

Text filled the other half of the screen. Victor began to read, but gave up at the end of the first page of five hundred. "Sarah," he snapped, "scan the open document, analyze, and cross-reference with Doctor Brown's logs from earlier today. Is there a correlation to the creature outside?"

"_Affirmative,_" Sarah's disembodied voice answered. "_The subject outside matches key elements from Doctor Brown's observations and the recorded notes of Doctor Stone._"

Victor bowed his head and cursed. A cursory match wasn't proof, but Victor knew better than to believe in coincidence. The attonites that had changed him had gotten to someone else. Or something else. For all he knew, the creature outside could just be a non-sentient mass of subatomic machines. Or it could be a person, mad with confusion, lashing out at whatever it encountered.

They knew nothing about the alien technology, and he doubted his father had known much more when he had fiddled with its programming. Fingering the canister shard, Victor muttered, "Looks like I wasn't your only test case, Dad. Only this one doesn't look so good."

Would this be his fate? Would he deteriorate into a shambling blob?

He shook his head. "Sarah, look at the notes again. Are there any specific vulnerability described in the attonites' design?"

After a pause, Sarah answered, "_Negative. The focus of Doctor Stone's research appears to be the machines' reprogramming to replicate biological tissue._"

"_The creature does not seem to appreciate our energy attacks,_" Starfire interrupted, sounding breathless. Her starbolts crackled in the background. "_But Tek and I are not generating enough damage to impede it._"

Tek's voice strained as she chimed in. "Maybe we can lure this thing into the Compound, and then really zap it with the defenses. That might—"

Her idea ended in a scream. Through the comm, Victor heard a groaning of metal, and a wet, viscous sound that made him bolt out of his seat. The other Titans screamed Tek's name over the open channel.

"_It's got her! It's pulling her in!_" Beast Boy yelped.

"_Everything you have!_" Starfire bellowed. The air sizzled on her end of the comm. "_We must not fail!! Titans, GO!_"

Victor grasped the edge of his console as he honed his ears on the sounds of struggle. "Hold on, guys! I'm gonna…I…"

He trailed off. His hands started to ache with the force of his grip. Cursing, he slammed his palms against the console, and then hissed at the sting. The shallow cuts in his hand glistened in Ops' emergency lighting. There was no sonic aperture underneath his palm anymore, just bone and blood. There was no armor left to protect him anymore.

If he had time, he could jury-rig some kind of weapon. But he didn't have the time. He needed something mobile, something with firepower, something that worked.

…or something that mostly worked.

"I'll be there in two minutes, guys!" he shouted, and ran out of Ops. "Sarah! Meet me in the Bay!"

* * *

Tek couldn't hear Victor's message over the sound of her own hyperventilation. Her armored legs sank into the creature's amorphous back against all her struggling. Tendrils wrapped around her arms and shoulders to push her down.

She kicked and flailed, spraying quicksilver mass with the force of her blows, but the creature surged upward faster than she could dismember its innumerable appendages. She tried angling her cannons down into its mass, but the tendrils forced her hands over her head. Desperately, Tek willed the unfamiliar flight system of her suit to lift her out of the creature. New tendrils emerged to slap shut the glowing thruster ports that opened at Tek's back.

"Force field," Tek squeaked to herself. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the incandescent walls of energy she had summoned during her fight with the Justice League. "Force field, force field, force field, force field force field force-field-force-field-forcefieldforcefieldforcefield!"

An impact rolled through the surface of the creature. Tek opened her eyes, wondering if she had succeeded. Instead of a force field, she saw Starfire sunk to the cusp of her thigh-highs in the creature's back just a few feet away. "Starfire, no! You have to—!"

Wordlessly, Starfire swept a glowing hand through the tendrils that bound Tek's arm. She wrapped herself around Tek's massive elbow, and then twisted her entire body with a shout. The gesture tore Tek from the creature's hold and flung her armored form high and away from the reach of the tentacles.

Without Tek's armor to wrestle, the forest of tentacles on the creature's back turned to Starfire. She felt the creature shudder as it continued its slog toward the now-looming Compound. Its mass pressed into her legs, slurping her deeper into its clutches, pulling her waist beneath its surface as its tentacles fell upon her.

Righteous fury blazed from her eyes and hands. She flung bolts at her feet, vaporizing entire handfuls of the creature while her cutting glare severed the tendrils around her. More and more cropped up to take the place of the severed appendages, lashing at her faster than she could burn them down. She fought the creature's pull with every ounce of her strength, and slowly lost.

Through the writhing mass around her, Starfire saw her friends gathering soul-self and green dinosaur bulk and exploding shuriken to come to her rescue. She felt the creature's grasp climb up around her bare ribs, and knew they wouldn't reach her before she vanished into the creature. It slurped at her hair, yanking her head back to spoil the aim of her blazing eyes.

Then an explosion rocked the creature from behind. Force slammed up through the creature, pounding Starfire's legs. Its tentacles flailed, losing their interest in Starfire as she was hammered out of its mass and into the air amidst a sparkling geyser.

Starfire tumbled, the world around her spinning too fast to make sense. Something firm caught her by the armpits and jerked her forward, straightening her in a burst of acceleration. She heard burning thrusters, and looked up.

The reflection of her astonished face stared back at her in Robin's visor. He wore on his back a pair of red metal wings with black rockets clipped to their undersides. One rocket was noticeably absent. Thruster backwash shimmered behind his trailing heels as he carried Starfire above the street. He pressed her against the front of his tunic to steady their flight.

"Are you okay? I'm setting us down," she heard his shout filter through his helmet. The pounding heart in her throat kept her from answering.

They landed on a nearby rooftop. Robin let her drop first, and then cut his thrusters and touched down, staggering beneath the weight of his cumbersome flight assembly. He staggered again when Tek long-jumped up from the ground and shook the rooftop with her craterous landing. Seconds later, Raven fluttered to join them, followed closely by a green pterodactyl ridden by Bushido.

"Check it out," Beast Boy said, shrinking out from under the swordsman to examine Robin's red wings. "It's Battle Pack Robin, now with kung fu rocket action!"

"You came back!" Tek cried. "That's great! Not that it really makes up for you turning your back on us earlier, or anything…but yay!"

Raven leaned on her knees, breathing hard. She bent carefully around the bulge of her stomach. "We need a new strategy, fast. In less than half a block, that thing is going to be in our lobby."

Planting his foot on the lip of the building, Bushido leaned over and examined the creature from on high. "Nothing we do is slowing it down. If anything, its progress has improved since we first encountered it," he noted. "We cannot stop it."

Robin flipped the visor of his helmet, revealing a hard, masked look. "We don't need to stop it. We just need to adjust your strategy."

Puzzled looks met his declaration. Tek swiveled her helmet, checking to make sure everyone else echoed her confusion before she said, "Huh?"

Staggering to the edge of the building, Robin pointed down into the street behind the creature. The breadth of his wings almost swept Bushido off the roof as he turned, and said, "Look at the mass the creature has lost. All the appendages you keep cutting off, or the pieces you tear out of it when you attack it."

The other Titans looked back along the creature's path. Metallic carnage littered the street in puddles, and painted the buildings, and dripped from street lights. Directly behind the shuffling creature, glimmerings of its mass lingered in potholes and cracks, rough patches of the street that had scraped off parts of the creature.

Beast Boy shrugged. "So?"

"This is the same material that changed Victor, isn't it?" Robin asked impatiently.

Hesitating, Raven said, "We think so."

"But it isn't reacting after it's separated from that thing's central mass. Whatever it is, or was, the creature's structure seems to become inert once it's removed," Robin said. "It's already been reduced, which is probably why it's moving faster now."

Bushido brightened. "I see," he said.

"I don't," Beast Boy complained. "Say it again in English."

"If we remove enough of its mass, we can disable it," Raven said. "Or at least reduce it to a more manageable size."

"Eng-lish," Beast Boy repeated, elongating the word with annoyance.

"Tear it apart!" exclaimed Robin, Raven, and Bushido.

"Eng. Lish." Beast Boy chopped his hands between the word.

Daggers leapt from Raven's eyes as she straightened. "Even you can't be that stupid," she snapped.

He grinned. "I'm not. I just wanted to see how far you would dumb it down." Then his smile became fangs. "But enough yakking. Let's shred!"

Beast Boy's whoop became a screech as he dove headfirst off the buildings edge into the shape of a falcon. Scooping up Bushido, Tek followed in a wheeling leap, with Starfire dropping hot on her heels. Raven shot through the air, her cloak rustling with speed, while Robin launched from the roof in a thunderous blast of his Redtail's thrusters.

The creature's probing tendrils had just touched upon the sidewalk in front of the Compound's lobby when a concentrated fracas tore into its back. Bolts of green and white ate its body into an acrid, metallic smoke. It shifted away from the bolts as it had before, trying to keep ahead.

Twin rockets outguessed the shifting creature. The bolts herded the creature into black projectiles, which plunged beneath its surface, and then ballooned its mass with fire. A wave of silvery pus leapt off the explosion and coated the street.

Tendrils whipped from the creature's back to retaliate. The wiry appendages snaked into the air and over the ground to grasp the bolts' source and bat the rocketeer out of the sky.

Trumpeting a war cry, a green mammoth stampeded across the reach of the tendrils. His trunk tore the appendages wholesale from the creature's central mass while his thick feet mashed them into quicksilver paste. What few appendages the mammoth missed were cropped by Bushido and his flashing sword.

More tendrils arose to overwhelm the mammoth and the swordsman. The creature's mass became a writhing wave of tentacles that leapt upon the pair, wrapping into them faster than they could flatten or cleave.

Robin loosed his last rockets into the far side of the creature, disrupting the anchor of its tentacle assault. He twisted skyward to avoid the creature's gushing wound. "Raven, now!" he bellowed.

The sorceress dove past him, her face taut against the rush of the air. Her cloak billowed around her as she stopped high above the creature. She pushed her will into the air, focusing her soul-self into the overextended creature. A bitter chill swam in the air as four flat blades of ether materialized, hinging together along one side to become a crude beater. With a twisting gesture, Raven plunged the beater into the creature and willed it to spin.

Silver splattered everywhere as Raven's soul-beater spun into a blur. The creature's mass painted everything in sight—buildings, cars, and unlucky heroes. Tendrils jerked and writhed as the beater severed their connections.

Seconds later, the black beater slowed, stopped, and dissolved above the remainder of the creature. Only a fraction of the creature's central mass had survived, barely more than that of a compact car. Even that dwindled, as rivulets of its skin drizzled off of the trembling, diminished creature.

Raven landed next to her gathering friends. Starfire and Tek had escaped the worst of the spray, bearing only a few splatters and a misting of flecks. Beast Boy and Bushido were living mirrors on one entire side, with startled eyes peering from their reflective fronts.

Spitting quicksilver, Beast Boy offered Raven a halfhearted scowl. "What a wasted opportunity. 'Let's mix it up?' 'Turn around?' You had a whole world of quippage open to you, and you choked."

"I suppose so," Raven deadpanned, arching her eyebrow. "Next time I'll remember to give it a whirl."

Robin's descent drowned out Beast Boy's reply. The Redtail lowered him to the ground on rippling waves of thrust, which he snuffed with a twist of the controls strapped to his hands. He shucked the pack, letting it drop behind him with a clatter, and loosed his scalloped cape from his back with a gesture.

"Stay sharp," he barked, letting his hand poised at his belt as he watched the quivering creature. He walked in a slow circle, drifting between the creature and the cluster of Titans behind him.

"Will you relax, Rocket Bird?" Beast Boy scoffed, and wiped at the reflective discharge covering his face. "We just went Steve McQueen all over this thing."

"Who?" Tek murmured sidelong to Bushido, who shrugged.

Beast Boy's hands cleared the runny metal away from his grin. "Stick a fork in it, it's done. Let's get Vic out here to science the hell out of it while the rest of us hit the showers."

Robin drew closer, ignoring the chatter behind him. His eyes narrowed on the bottommost edge of the trembling creature, whose outline shrank as its mass perspired down its side and pooled onto the street. Miniscule divots appeared in the puddles, where the street had cracked and the creature's mass poured in to fill them. More mass continued to sink into the street as the creature shrank. More mass, and more, too much to fill a few simple cracks.

Realization split Robin's face for a shout as he whirled around. "Hit it now!" he bellowed, already drawing an explosive disc from his belt.

Too late. A sharp buzz resonated up from below. Each Titan tingled with a sound reminiscent of the final completed circuit of a mad device. The creature's tremble became a jitter that rippled its skin. That jitter spread through the street, tickling their feet with vibration.

Memories of Victor's resurrection flashed in Tek's thoughts. She remembered the way Victor's progenitor substance had reacted to an electro-disc, and recognized that reaction in the creature now. As the street quaked, she backed away, and cried, "Underground! It's in the power lines underground!"

The street rumbled, spraying pavement from chasms that spread beneath the toppling Titans. Whole sections of the street rolled up, the rough concrete and black tar glistening as it became smooth, silvery mass. Columns of the metallic substance grasped the Titans from belowground, imprisoning them in tentacles too thick to break and too strong to overpower.

As the rumble of the street quelled, the remainder of the creature began to pull itself upright. Its sprouting tendrils hardened around the Titans, the shimmering metal dulling into static, cold, immersive bonds.

"Power source…better…" a reverberant voice said. "Stabilizing…control…"

Raven arched in the steely grasp of her bonds. Her whole body suffered in the grip of the metal. Air crawled down her throat in labored gasps, her chest constricted to the point of collapse. Panic knifed through her heart as she felt the fetus kick. She tried to focus her soul-self into a tool to pry the metal apart, or to open a portal wide enough for escape. Her concentration fled as the edges of her vision began to blacken.

Deep crimson color poured through the metal around her. It grew hot to the touch, like fire kept under glass, and murmured with a voice that Raven didn't hear with her ears, and couldn't quite understand.

With a screeching wrench, the bonds around her split open, spilling her onto her knees on the cracked pavement. Raven collapsed around her stomach, heaving for breath, and looked back at the broken column of metal. The murky red coloring evaporated from the alloy, leaving it a tattered blossom of jagged, torn steel.

The soft babble of emotions inside of Raven eased. She hid her brimming eyes in the shadows of her hood, overwhelmed and surprised by the relief she felt. "Good fetus," she murmured between gasps.

More panic clawed at her psychic walls, emanating from behind her. She turned to her trapped friends, who struggled as she had in the metal bonds. Soul-self gathered before her as she chanted her mantra to focus her ragged will. "Azarath, Metrion…"

The creature stretched itself into a thick tendril and lashed out at Raven. She caught the flickering motion out of the corner of her eye, and braced herself for the hit, unable to interpose any kind of defense in time.

She was saved by a roaring, gunmetal blur crossing the battlefield. It plowed over the creature, mashing it under enormous black treads and spraying it off of a snub face. Raven caught a spray of metallic residue to the face as the tendril exploded. She flinched and blinked as the blur locked its treads, skidding to rest on the broken street.

Only the skeleton frame of the CUTTER had been finished. Half its fuselage was missing, leaving the interior visible through empty panels and unfinished welds. None of its heavy armor had been mounted onto the frame, making the tank appear diminished, even emaciated. Its missile racks and plasma turrets were absent, and its engine was visible through the missing hood as a network of conduits and pistons. Its fusion micro-core glowed blue in the metal maze of its undercarriage.

Immersed in the solid metal of his bonds, Beast Boy could only follow the tank's arrival with his eyes. His half-covered mouth split for a strangled cheer. "Robo-Vomit!"

Victor waved through the empty windshield. He sat on a folding metal chair that had been duct taped to the stripped interior of the CUTTER like a makeshift harness. "Cut everybody loose!" he shouted to Raven.

As Raven carved the other metal columns open with her soul-self, freeing the other asphyxiating Titans, the spattered silver puddle at the epicenter of the torn street began to rise. Victor tensed his foot atop the gas pedal, his hand clasped around the tank's gear shift. The motor beneath him rumbled hungrily.

The puddle climbed from itself. Beneath it, the soft buzz of the live current drawn up from unseen, underground electrical conduits fed the creature's growth. Its base split apart, while its top bulged into three growths, one bulbous, two gangly. Details arose from its skin, which dulled into pale shades of white and pink. In seconds, the creature became a sight that took Victor's breath away.

"It can't be…" Victor whispered. "D-Doctor Smith?"

Walter Smith clasped the lapels of the lab coat manifested out of his own body. His face bulged, producing spectacles, which he straightened over his cold gaze. "Hello again, Victor. We seem destined to meet always under ignominious circumstances, do we not? This time, however, the embarrassment is mine. I require your assistance."

Raven freed Tek last, helping her down from the column to stand next to their gasping friends. Tek's armor had protected her from the suffocating grasp of the metal, leaving her voice more than strong enough to carry her confusion. "Who's that guy?" asked Tek.

Beast Boy hung in Starfire's grasp, her arm wrapped around his shoulders as he filled his lungs. He tried to ignore the way her hand kneaded his arm as he wheezed, "That would be our friendly neighborhood mad scientist. This is…what? The second time he's come back from the dead?"

"That we know of," Robin wheezed back, braced on his knees.

The CUTTER's growl ebbed as Victor abandoned the gas pedal. He pushed through the empty windshield, bracing himself on the bottom of the frame, and gaped at the scientist born from the quicksilver. "You were the monster all along?"

"Stones and glass houses, boy," Smith said, his flat voice carrying across the distance. "It seems the process was successful for you. You aren't experiencing any fluctuation in mass? No loss of physical structure?"

Victor bristled at the scientist's tone. "You tore apart half the city just to quiz me?" he shouted, and gestured to the devastated wake left in the creature's—Smith's—path.

Smith said, "I have not been as fortunate as you. When the material made contact with my skin and implants, it triggered the experiment. I surmise you experienced a similar But the metamorphosis appears to be unstable. The regenerated mass requires a constant flow of electricity, or it relapses into its inert state. Thus, I required an excess of mass in order to reach—"

"You attacked innocent people! You attacked my friends!" snarled Victor.

The corners of Smith's eyes crinkled. "I will admit that the assimilation of excess material put something of a strain on my cognitive faculties. When you children thoughtlessly lashed out at what you did not understand, I defended myself on instinct. Such matters are now in the past, Victor. There are more pressing issues at stake now."

"Like what?" Victor seethed.

Electricity hummed into Smith, drawn up from a tendril snaking from his heel and through the ground. "I am breaking down, Victor. I require continuous electricity and matter in order to retain my form. Your father's technology is flawed, and I must correct it."

Muscles bunched in Victor's jaw. "Seems to me it worked just fine," he said.

"Indeed. You remain whole, and I must discover why." Smith stepped forward. The tendril at his heel tugged his foot back, forcing him to stop. "I must examine you to ascertain the key difference in our mutual experience that allows you to maintain your structure."

"Examine me? I don't think so," Victor retorted. "I'm not your lab rat anymore."

Smith's cheek twitched. "That was not a request. And lack of cooperation on your part will make the experience needlessly unpleasant. I recommend you acquiesce."

"Or," Beast Boy called, dropping from Starfire's possessive grasp, "how about a different plan? We bottle your gooey ass up and shelve you in the meanest, toughest prison pantry we can find."

Birdarangs filled Robin's hands as he threw back his cape. "You want to surrender while you still have some mass left, 'Techmann,'" he snapped.

"Honestly, Victor. These annoyances are intolerable," Smith said.

The flesh of his arm rippled. Dark circuitry patterns emerged from the flesh as it expanded outward from the bone. His fingers and palm folded back, becoming a glowing aperture, which he turned upon the row of Titans to his left.

"No!" Victor shouted, too late. Smith's arm belched plasma fire brighter than anything Victor had ever seen. The heat of the blast kissed Victor's face with the dry, acrid taste of ozone all the way across the battlefield. Anyone caught in the torrid geyser of the cannon would be ash before they realized it.

Raven grabbed Bushido and Beast Boy and melted into her own shadow, dragging the startled pair with her. Starfire tackled Robin in mid-leap, carrying him even higher. The heels of her boots softened like putty in the rippling air that surrounded the beam.

Tek couldn't move her armor fast enough. She threw her arms over her face and screamed.

As the white fire swallowed Tek, she felt her armor hum. The trim of her armor glowed, and a wash of blue light surrounded her. Coalescing, the light became a force field, encapsulating Tek from the vicious plasma.

Fire crashed over the blue sphere like a lethal tide. Pavement boiled underneath her. Tek began to swelter as excess heat began to overpower the field's limits. Tek peeked around her arms, and watched her force field flicker and shrink. She had no idea how long it would last, or if it would move with her if she tried to run. She didn't even know how to activate it.

"Help!" she screamed.

The CUTTER roared as Victor stomped the gas pedal under his bare foot. His duct taped harness strained with acceleration as the tank leapt forward, its treads chewing through the ruined street, its enormous front wheels bracketing Smith.

"A regrettable choice," Smith murmured. The geyser from his arm ceased as he swung it around. Its aperture shrank, and glowed red. Taking aim, Smith unleashed a pencil-thin beam of red light upon the CUTTER, drawing it up through the center of the oncoming tank.

Victor twisted away from the beam as it flashed through the interior cabin. Dazzled by the beam's intensity, he felt the tank shudder and begin to veer, its engine dying in a cough. He groped across the dashboard, feeling for the proper cluster of controls. When his hand found them, he felt the control panel drifting away.

The bisected CUTTER wobbled apart under its own momentum. Its halves tilted together, the metal frames twisting as they clashed. The wheels and treads splayed out from under the weight of the rolling wreckage, and dumped the remains of the venerable Titan transport across the street.

The smallest debris skittered up to Smith's feet. He noted them with a dismissive look as his arm resumed its previous shape.

Tek punched through the waning bubble of her force field and tromped across molten pavement in a dead run. "Vic! No!" she cried.

The rest of the Titans converged on the tank's wreckage. Metal shrieked and flew back as Starfire and Tek laid into the CUTTER's gnarled frame. Black ether wrapped into the debris, peeling it back from the remains of the cockpit. A green ermine dove into the gaps in the frame.

Working together, the Titan women pried open the wreckage interior. Beast Boy shoved on the frame from underneath, growing with gorilla strength. His hairy bulk overshadowed a limp, stirring form wedged between the wall and the driver's seat. Beast Boy tore the seat away and cradled Victor in his oaken arms.

Blood spilled from a cut spanning Victor's forehead. Purple bruises bloomed all over his face and arms. The shapeshifter's whimper stirred Victor, who groaned, and opened his eyes. "Oh, hell," he groaned. "What a face to wake up to…"

Shrinking into his human shape, Beast Boy smiled. "Better?" he asked.

"No. Way worse," Victor grunted.

Compression waves enveloped Beast Boy's head. Victor fell from his grasp as Beast Boy plowed through the wreckage along the path of the blue sonic beam.

Sonic blasts plunged into the Titans' midst with pinpoint accuracy, striking Robin and Bushido, and batting Raven out of the air. A doubled blast hammered into Starfire, snuffing the starbolts from her hands as she tumbled down the street.

Tek spun in time to watch Smith's arms refocus on her. The ends of his empty wrists glowed blue with sonic power. As she raised her cannons to return fire, the blue glow became white. A bemused look crossed Smith's face before he disappeared behind a curtain of white electricity that spanned the distance to Tek in an instant.

Victor watched the last of his friends fall to the ground with a howl, her armor overloaded by the electric storm Smith poured into her. Grasping the CUTTER's frame, Victor hauled himself to his feet, remaining there only by the grace of his grasp on the twisted metal around him.

The cannons in Smith's wrists became hands once again. "As you can see, I've exceeded your father's meager expectations for the attonites. This so-called 'Technis' was meant to be simple prostheses for his useless son. Silas always lacked vision. He had no sense of scale."

A hard fist clenched in Victor's stomach. He leaned against the dashboard, pushing his glare as far as it would go. "You shut the hell up about my father," he said hoarsely.

"Do you have any idea of the implications at work here?" Smith said. The tendril connecting him to his underground power supply limited his movement. So he lengthened his arms into silvery extensions that pushed across the battlefield toward the CUTTER's remains. "This technology can literally do anything. Become any substance, any machine, even any living entity. It can replicate any physical material. Weapons. People."

The world lurched around Victor. His head throbbed as he caught himself against the tank frame, and glared at the tentacles coming for him. "Shut up," he tried to snarl.

"With this kind of power, I will eradicate disease and hunger. I will conquer aging. Death will become obsolete once I discover the secret locked inside of you," Smith said. "The reign of Nature is over. Mankind will graduate to a new form, to Technology. And I will shepherd its evolution."

Smith's tendrils parted the CUTTER's frame with ease. They slithered in and caught Victor by the wrists, jerking him hard into the dashboard.

Reeling, Victor fought the tentacles to no avail as they dragged him out of the wreck. Jagged edges cut into him, sparking pain across his arms and sides, soaking patches of blood into his clothes. He staggered, but kept his feet under him. His eyes trailed up the tentacles to their source.

Through sheer force of hatred, Victor's world shrank. He banished his surroundings, and his worry for his friends, and the pain eating his body from the inside and outside. Everything he knew became the tentacled scientist grasping him and the dwindling space between them.

He hated Smith. He had hated Smith from the day he met the scientist, who had helped his father bastardize him with cybernetics. Smith represented everything Victor hated about science, about the kind of work that consumed his parents' lives: that cold, sterile, mechanical detachment, the inhumanity Victor had feared since waking up as a nightmare amalgamation of man and machine.

That hatred, that sheer outrage, throbbed in Victor's temples. It tingled up his arm, which languished in Smith's grasp. Skittering across the ground inexorably toward Smith, Victor pushed every ounce of hatred he had at the monster that grasped him.

"NO!" bellowed Victor.

Sonic waves shattered Smith into a thousand miniscule globules that sprayed over the street. The tentacles holding Victor disintegrated, splattering into two lines.

Victor stared down at his arm. The smooth, metallic casing of his sonic cannon had subsumed the limb, turning his hand into a glowing aperture. Even as he watched, the cannon's metal undulated, collapsing back upon itself to become flesh and blood once more. His hand emerged from his wrist none the worse for wear. All of the cuts and bruises that had been in his arm were gone.

A sudden fatigue dropped Victor to his knees. Every cell in his body felt drained, leaving him lightheaded. Biting back a wave of nausea, he fought to keep his eyes open, and tried to understand what his body had just done.

Quicksilver poured at Victor from a hundred different directions. It converged together into the mass of a man and pounced on the teen's chest, driving him onto his back through a shallow mess of the CUTTER's wreckage. Dazed, Victor struggled with the reflective blob as it took form once more.

"Altering your form can take its toll, as I'm sure you now understand," Smith said through a rudimentary mouth. His skin remained silvery, his features, blunted, as though he lacked the strength to resume his former shape. It looked to Victor as though the real Smith were trying to push his way out of a mirror, and failing. But the metallic creature's pseudopodia more than matched Victor's waning strength.

Something blue glowed in the reflection of Smith's undulating skin. As Victor wrestled against Smith's grasp, he looked up above his head, and saw an object pulsing with light a few feet behind him. It was the CUTTER's fusion micro-core, the fist-sized power source of the tank. Smith's cutting beam had mercifully missed breaching the core, or else Victor would have been charred, free-floating attonites.

Pseudopodia oozed from Smith's chest and lashed around Victor's throat. The world around Victor turned red, blackening at the edges. As Victor's eyes rolled up into his skull, they fell upon the micro-core. His hand clawed over his head as he convulsed in Smith's ironclad grasp.

Smith drizzled as he crushed Victor's throat. "Consider," he said, "you suffocate only because you've convinced your body that it needs air. Had you sufficient power, you could eliminate every one of your paltry biological needs. But that sonic attack took its toll, didn't it? You're fatigued. You're finished."

Scrabbling, Victor's fingertips brushed against the micro-core. It tilted onto its edge, and then rolled under his palm. He grasped the device with desperation, and closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth of the infinitesimal fusion reaction under his palm.

The flesh of his hand poured around the micro-core, enveloping it. It pulsed softly under his skin as it traveled up his arm, disappearing at his shoulder. Victor used his panic to fuel his thoughts, forcing himself to remember circuitry, and alloy, and mechanics. Blueprints he had etched into his mind through endless repetition emerged from his memory. He concentrated on their design until he could think of nothing else.

Smith's pseudopodia stretched as the neck in their grasp expanded, its flesh and bone galvanizing into armor. The sweatshirt beneath him ripped, splitting apart to make room for a molybdenum steel chest plate. Smith felt himself rise atop Victor as the teen's body burgeoned with metal.

Blue light pulsed through a window in Victor's chest. Steel swallowed half of his face, pouring around his smile. His left eye disappeared into a red glow.

"Funny thing about power," said Cyborg. He sat up and snapped Smith's pseudopodia with a gesture. His oversized hand wrapped around Smith's head. "You don't appreciate it until someone with more comes and kicks you in the teeth."

Cyborg rolled over and slammed Smith's face into the ground. The silvery creature exploded beneath Cyborg's palm, which blasted a crater into the pavement.

Clambering to his feet, Cyborg shook the glittering mess off his hand. "Consider," he said snidely to the lurching, headless mass at his feet. "You've been a machine for all of, what? Half a day? I've had three years' experience driving a body like this, thanks to you."

The metal around his face started to recede. Cyborg paused for a breath, refocusing his thoughts on his former body's blueprints. His body solidified again.

"Feeding on the city grid, though? That's gotta be a pain. With all those brains you keep bragging about, you think you'd find some kind of mobile power source, like this." Cyborg tapped the glowing window in his chest. "It's a little too Iron Man, right? I know. You can't expect too much from a 'troglodyte' like me."

His arm mechamorphed into a cannon, bathing Smith's trembling remains in blue buildup.

"But I'll tell you what you can expect," snarled Cyborg. "Nine thousand decibels of ultrasonic foot-up-your-ass if you don't give up right now. We'll put you on a nine-volt drip until we figure out how to stabilize you, and then we're shipping your sorry ass to jail."

Pavement crunched behind him. Cyborg twisted around to look, keeping his aim on Smith. One by one, the other Titans staggered back to the edge of the battle, dazed, but alive. Tek preceded the others, the joins of her armor still smoldering. Her visor flashed with blue at the sight of him. "Vic?" she asked. "Or…Cyborg?"

In the moment's distraction, Smith's quivering mass gathered together, and sprang up in a shapeless leap. The wake of Cyborg's sonic blast kicked Smith hard into Cyborg's chest, where he splattered, and stuck.

Cyborg screamed as his chest dissolved into agony. A foreign presence seeped into the very alloy of his armor, corrupting the sub-molecular attonites that composed him back into their default, silvery form. The presence dug until it touched the micro-cell deep in Cyborg's chest, and forced its connection into the cell's leads.

Smith emerged whole out of the blob on Cyborg's chest. His wrist merged unnaturally into Cyborg's sternum, which darkened from alloy into skin. As Cyborg screamed, his implants dissipated into his body, becoming muscle and naked flesh once more.

"I suppose an examination is unnecessary," Smith said, and wrenched his connection to Victor's chest, twisting a howl from the naked teen. "You possess everything I need. Absorbing you should correct the deficit in my attonites' program."

Metallic veins crawled through Victor's skin. The reflective pallor spread across his chest, swallowing the detail of his body into an amorphous quicksilver blob. His scream spurred the Titans to him. But their readied shots and poised blades hesitated, unable to strike Smith without hitting Victor.

Scowling, Smith pressed harder, pushing more of himself into Victor's chest. "Give me the secret," he hissed. "Give me what I need."

His hiss became a yelp as Victor's veined hands closed around his wrist.

Clenching his teeth, Victor turned his scream into a snarl. He shoved his feet underneath him, and forced his legs to straighten. It took everything he had to stand and keep his hold on Smith's arm while his body racked him with pain. "You know what you need?" he growled.

The color in Victor's skin succumbed. Every inch of him became gleaming metal, losing its detail to the quicksilver's undulation.

Then, as Victor straightened, the lines of his body steadied. They solidified. Silver expanded and swirled, becoming not armor, but neither flesh. Muscles set into angular shapes. Facial features softened, receded, until all that remained was a sharp, lipless mouth set beneath two burning blue eyes.

What had once been Victor now stood taller than Cyborg ever had. His body gleamed, reflective and hard, like a Greek god sculpted from pure, perfect metal. Smith dangled from his chest, his eyes wide with fear behind spectacles.

"Will," the metal creature said, spilling blue light through its reverberating voice. "I lived for years in a hell you made for me. You and my dad. And I made it because I wouldn't let myself quit. You don't have what it takes to hold yourself together, old man. You don't have the will."

Smith's hand ejected from the creature's chest, throwing the old scientist to the ground. He bounced with a cry, and scrambled back to his feet. His arms blurred into quicksilver tendrils and stabbed at the creature. "No!" he sobbed. "No, I must have the key! Give it to me!"

His tendrils stabbed at the creature, and spattered across its chest. Smith tried accessing its attonites again, pouring his will through himself to contact the subatomic machines that formed the creature. Again and again, a thousand times in the space of a heartbeat, the creature rebuffed his contact. Smith howled, and poured everything he had into wresting control of the creature's body.

The creature's lucent eyes narrowed as Smith drove himself against it. Rivulets streamed from Smith's body, which lost its color for a silver sheen. "You'd better take it easy," the creature said. "You look a little 'fatigued.'"

With one last roar, Smith collapsed into a writhing mass of tendrils. He wailed and writhed, spilling toward the creature in a tsunami floundering tentacles.

"Don't," the creature said. "We can still—!"

The tentacle wave swelled. Broken pavement beneath it succumbed to its touch, adding to its mass until it loomed over what the battlefield. Its shadow swallowed the other Titans as it reached for the creature.

The creature raised its arms. Its structure changed fluidly, without any ratcheting mechamorphosis, shifting its shape and composition until it pointed two massive sonic cannons at the oncoming tentacle wave.

A mountain of ultrasonic sound erupted from the cannons. Windows rattled for miles, and car alarms shrieked through the city in waves. The flash blasted the night sky, painting the city blue. An inhuman howl evaporated inside the flare of the cannons, dwindling until it became nothing.

When the cannon flash ended, it haunted the Titans' eyes as dancing spots. They each fought their vision clear and charged forward to meet the threat, whatever it had become.

Victor knelt on the street, naked and alone, breathing heavily. He lifted his eyes to the stalwart approach of his friends. Pushing a wan smile through his face, he said, "S'okay. He's…gone."

Drifting back to the ground, Raven gave the silver-speckled street a quirked eyebrow. "It looks more like he's everywhere," she said in a cautious tone. "Is he…?"

"I don't know," Victor said. "He must have run out of juice trying to…I'm not really sure what he was trying to do. But I couldn't let him."

Robin wrapped his cape around Victor's waist as the tired Titan shambled to his feet. Amazement wrought the Teen Wonder's heavy mask. "What was that thing you turned into? It was…It was…"

"It was freaking awesome is what it was!" Beast Boy whooped. "First you got all Cyborg'd up, and then you went all gooey, and then you turned into some kind of…Cyberion thing!"

"That's not actually a word, but okay," Victor grunted.

Questions rattled from the Titans around him, falling on deaf ears as he surveyed the absolute disaster on the Compound's doorstep. Everywhere he looked, there was destruction, all of it painted with metallic ooze. Deep inside his chest, he felt a strange warmth continue to pulse.

"We can figure out what happened later," he said, shaking away the persistent questions. "Now that the real fighting is done, the SCU is going to be all over this place. And it looks like a chemical spill threw up all over us. We should call S.T.A.R. Labs and—"

He tried to take a step. Lightheadedness struck him without warning, sending him into a nosedive before his feet could recover. A large metal hand caught him by the chest, easing him upright.

"I think you need to sit down," she said, her tinny voice tinged with warmth. "You've had a long day."

Victor hung in Tek's grasp, too tired and dizzy to argue.

* * *

The Commons glowed with the light of a single screen. A small holographic window hung above the dining table, black and white with text. In the late hour since the Titans' battle with Smith, the Compound had stilled. The city noise rolled past the windows, looking in, but remaining outside.

Victor hunched over the tabletop. The light-screen prodded his bleary eyes. He pushed aside a plate with the remains of a hamburger and a few fries, all stone cold. His yawn fell into his hand. Words scrolled on the hovering screen, but he had lost the ability to discern them half an hour ago.

His whole body ached. He luxuriated in the feeling as it soaked into his bones. Being able to work up to a hundred hours without recharging had been nice, but he looked forward to his first night of real sleep in over three years. He only wished he had a real bed for the occasion.

A face appeared through his text without warning. "You need to stop working," Tek said, and pushed her smile through the light-screen's membrane. She had snuck into the Commons under cover of his fatigue. She could have walked in wearing a one-man band on her back, and Victor still might have missed her.

"It's not work," Victor said through another yawn. "I promise. I'm just getting some reading out of the way so I can get an early start on the—"

"No." Tek circled the table and straddled the chair next to his. "No, you won't. You're not working on anything for at least a week. No monitor duty, no missions, and no maintenance."

Smiling sleepily, Victor said, "So now you're in charge? Somebody's gonna have to teach you the secret leader handshake."

Her hand settled atop his. She squeezed, and murmured, "You really scared me today. What's going on up there?" Her fingertip prodded his forehead.

The sensation of her touch tickled long after she lowered her finger. He stared down at their hands intertwined, watching his tendons jump as he squeezed back.

"I don't know," he said. "I mean, obviously the attonites respond to conscious thought. God only knows how, or what it means. That's how Smith produced all of that hardware on demand. That's how I managed to reassert my implants. I concentrated, and they were just there."

He touched his chest. Underneath the taut, borrowed T-shirt, he felt the steady rhythm of his heart. The heavy weight of the CUTTER's fusion micro-cell sat next to it. The heavy metals and electrical output contained in the cell would kill him, if he were as human as he looked.

"With this big honkin' D-battery in me, who knows what I can do?" he said, and knocked on his chest. "I just gotta figure out what—"

"No," Tek said with an exasperated sigh. She brushed his brow, smoothing the confusion from his forehead. "What happened to you? Not your body. You? It was like you wouldn't even admit that anything had happened to you today."

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Didn't have time to stop and take stock of my fingers and toes, kid. When you get a day like the one we just had, you just gotta keep going." His eyes glazed at the memory of a similar day, years ago, with similar changes. "Gotta keep it together."

The corners of her mouth stretched. "I guess," she drawled.

A deep breath whistled through his nose as he straightened in his chair. He focused his will into his hand in Tek's grasp. Gradually, the flesh condensed, drawing mass from other parts of his arm as it shifted into angular metal. Tek gasped in surprised and let go of the cold appendage as he lifted it in examination.

His concentration became amazement at the alien design of his new hand. Without his focus, it reverted back into flesh and bone. "But maybe you're right," he mused. "I've got time now. I can get a handle on this 'Cyberion' thing, and then I can be part of the team again."

Tek stared at him with naked shock. "Again? When did you…?" Then her face fell. "That's what this has been about?"

Her fist drilled Victor in the arm, making him jump with a yelp. Rubbing the new bruise, he complained, "Ow! I never realized how strong you were until I got skin."

"You moron!" she exclaimed. "You are, like, the dumbest genius I will ever meet! You've been freaking out all day about nothing!"

"I haven't been freaking out," he protested.

"You have! You've been doing that stupid guy thing where you pretend like there isn't anything wrong even though everything's wrong and you don't want to deal with it!" She gave him a pained look. "Vic, did you seriously think we were gonna kick you off the team because you lost all your robot parts? How could you even think something so horrible?"

He frowned. "It's not horrible. It's just facts. I'm not a kung fu guy like Tim or Ryuko. Without my powers, I—"

Tek scoffed, "Your powers sucked. You shot sound and punched stuff. Whoopee. Kory was always stronger than you. Raven was always smarter than you. And I always had way better firepower."

Cringing, he said, "Great. Now my arm and my feelings hurt."

She punched his other arm. "Your stupid hardware never made you part of the team, idiot. It was everything else.

"Did you know I still get freaked out every time we square off against these Tyrants and monsters and psychos with death beams that keep calling us out? Every time. And when it happens, I look at you. Not at the metal. You. And I see the way you keep it together, keep us together, and I just want to…to be like you." Her voice trailed off as she broke his gaze.

Even in the dark, Victor could see the brilliant color flushing her cheeks. He felt his eyes sting at Tek's open, vulnerable candor. The embarrassment she radiated seeped into him until it broke down a wall he didn't know he had.

"I got really scared when I woke up like this," he said, his voice starting shakily as he looked at his hands. "It's like, I kept praying for this to happen since the moment my dad and that doctor freak hardwired me. I wanted my old life back more than anything. I wanted it so bad."

"I know the feeling," Tek said quietly to her feet.

"But when it happened…" Victor faltered. His hand ran over his face, masking the glistening of his eyes. "I started to think about what I had to go back to. My dad died. Grandma didn't last long after him. I don't…I don't have any family left. And when I thought about leaving here, about leaving you guys, I realized that I didn't have anywhere to go."

His voice grew thick. "I just wanted to prove that I was still part of the team. I didn't want to leave. You guys are all I…"

As he faltered again, Tek slid her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. She felt him shudder with a choked breath as he hugged her back. She didn't try to speak. She didn't need to.

Parting reluctantly from his embrace a moment later, Tek smiled, and dried her eyes. "So," she said.

"Yeah," he said, and dabbed his own eyes with his thumb with a manly sniff.

"'Cyberion,' huh?"

Victor cringed. "It sure as hell beats 'Robo-Vomit.' I mean, it's nonsense, sure. I've been toying with other words for…whatever the hell I am. Technomorph? Omegadrome? But damn it all if Salad Head's thing isn't starting to grow on me."

"He's sneaky with names like that," Tek said with a grin. "Just be thankful your make-up word has more than three letters. People take a longer name more seriously."

They chuckled together, until his laugh became a yawn. "Sorry," he said, chagrinned. "It's not the company, I swear. I'm just—"

"Tired. Which is why you should sleep." Tek rose from her seat and patted Victor's shoulder. "I should, too. Even people made of regular old matter get tired. I can't imagine how tired Cyberions can get."

She hesitated for a second, her hand lingering on his shoulder. Then, before he could move, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead. They lingered there an instant too long to be chaste. Drawing back, she let her fingers slide off his shirt. "G'night, Vic," she whispered, and backed out the door.

The sensation of her kiss glowed in his skin. He sat at the table and stared through the light-screen at the door where Tek had disappeared. In the moments that followed, his eyes' focus drifted back to the screen. It had scrolled through the entire document to return to its first page, which read, "Project: Technis." Silas Stone's name hung beneath the title in bold print.

Tapping the touch-sensitive table, Victor brought up the command to close the screen. He gave the hologram one last look. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered. Then he tapped the table, plunging the room into dark.

* * *

Beast Boy stepped from the shower stall wearing a towel around his waist. He ran another towel over his face and hair, trying to scrub out the memory of the silver detritus.

S.T.A.R. Labs technicians had poured over every inch of him—of all of them—ensuring twice over that the renegade scientist's "material" was collected, inert, and had no lasting repercussions for anything it touched. Even after two hours of being scrubbed by men in hazmat suits, Beast Boy still felt dirty. After three showers, he still felt dirty, but he was too tired to care anymore.

As he pulled the towel over his face and sighed, he heard the bathroom door slide open. A familiar scent wafted up under the sodden folds of his towel, jolting him to a halt. He tore the towel from his eyes, and stammered, "Hey."

Raven stood in the doorway, toothbrush in hand, hair still damp from the forced hazmat cleaning. She wore a velvety robe, the belt scarcely long enough to tie around her waist. Mild discomfort twisted in her face to mirror Beast Boy's surprise. "Hi. I was just…" She lifted her toothbrush to finish the thought.

"Huh? Oh, sure!" Beast Boy scrambled aside, giving her five times as much room as she needed to walk to the sinks.

She afforded him an odd look before settling at the sink on the end. As he watched her begin to brush her teeth, he saw her odd look return to him through the mirror, and realized that he was staring at her.

"So," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, crazy night, huh? Crazy day. People melting, technology evolving, emotions running wild…understandably…"

Raven brushed her teeth, staring in reply.

"Nobody to really blame for the, uh, wild, running emotions. These kinds of things happen, am I right? We just gotta shake it off. So-and-so says this, so-and-so does that, so-and-so kisses so-and-so. It gets crazy. Am I right?"

She kept brushing. Her eyes haunted him from the bathroom mirror.

Beast Boy slumped back against the row of shower stalls. The back of his head banged against the shower door as he groaned at the ceiling. "Okay, look. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry about what I did today, Raven. It was stupid and thoughtless. Can you please forgive me? Are we gonna be okay?"

Raven's toothbrush paused. She left it hanging in her lips as she turned around with a curious look. "Do you even know what you're apologizing for?" she asked around a mouthful of foam.

He groaned again, and knocked his head against the shower stall. "Son of a bitch," he swore to himself, "I should have known better." Pasting her with an annoyed, exasperated look, he said, "No, I don't have a clue. But I'm smart enough to know when you're really mad at me, 'cause you don't act like you're mad at me, you just get all cold and Raven-y about it.

"And now on top of my first apology, I gotta apologize for apologizing without knowing what I was apologizing about. And then I gotta apologize for having to ask you what I was apologizing about." Beast Boy straightened against the line of shower stalls. He tied his second towel around his eyes like a blindfold, and said in a defeated tone, "Okay. Fire away. Tell me what I did wrong, and then let me have it. I know I deserve it."

He cringed, listening for Raven to lay into him with a cold, snappish list of his transgressions. Instead he heard her resume brushing her teeth. Tugging the towel out of his eyes, he looked to her expectantly.

Raven glanced at him through the mirror. She took her time finishing, letting him stew. Then she spat, wiped her mouth, and said, "You don't have anything to apologize for, Garfield. So don't."

Beast Boy blinked. "No. No, this is a trick," he said slowly while she washed her face. "I'm gonna believe you, and then not apologize, and then you're gonna turn around and get me for double because I still don't get it. Well, I'm not falling for that one, Raven. I'm sorry. I apologized. You have to accept it. It's in the Geneva Convection, or something."

Her eyebrow rose. "No tricks. In fact, I should apologize to you."

He waited, still expecting more. But Raven simply turned and waited for him to speak, her features calm. "I don't get it," he said at last. "You were super-pissed at me for kissing Kory earlier today."

"No," Raven said patiently. "I wasn't angry. And if you knew me half as well as you think I did, you'd be able to tell the difference. I was…"

Beast Boy took a cautious step toward her. "Raven? Is everything okay?"

Her jaw set, and her brows knit. She looked past him, unable to meet his questioning gaze. "I was jealous," she said.

Thunderstruck, he rubbed his towel at his ears, sure that he had misheard her. "You were…?"

"Jealous," she said again. Seeing his surprise, she added, "Not like that, Garfield. It's…more complicated than that."

He stepped toward her again, forgetting his surprise at the worried expression on her face. "Well, you could explain it to me," he suggested. "Just make sure you use small enough words."

With a wry look to his smile, she said, "I saw you kissing Koriand'r…and I know it was involuntary…mostly…"she said as he opened his mouth to protest. "But that doesn't matter, because it made me realize…"

"…what?" he asked.

Sobering, Raven looked away. "It made me realize that one day you really are going to find someone else. And you should. You deserve someone, Garfield. You truly do. But a relationship like that is going to mean less time for…other people."

The confusion faded from his face. "Oh," he said.

"I got accustomed to you being there for me, and…let's face it, doting on me," she admitted. "I even grew to like it. It made me feel like I had a safety net always ready to catch me. I needed that, even if I didn't know it. But when I saw you and Koriand'r, I realized…you can't always be there for me."

"I will be," he told her. "Besides, the girlfriend thing? Not much of an issue. I have to keep myself off the market. It's the only way to be fair to the millions of beautiful ladies who can't—"

"Garfield," Raven chastised him softly.

He sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Raven. Don't be like this, okay? Not now. I'm tired, you're tired, a big goo monster tried to eat our friend and tear down our home…"

Raven shook her head. "What did I tell you, Garfield? The people we care about never stay. When I saw you and Koriand'r together, it made that abundantly clear. Seeing it made everything seem very…real." She touched her stomach. "And that scared me, just for a moment. But I'm fine now. And I'm sorry."

His jaw clenched. He folded his arms across his taut, lean chest, and said, "Apology not accepted. I don't care what happens. Even if we both move to opposite sides of the planet, or one of us gets hit on the head and winds up speaking in crazy made-up language, I'm always gonna care about you. No matter how many hot girls are into me, or what brooding goth guy finally wears you down, I will always be there for you and that kid you're lugging around. You can't get away from it, so don't even try. Don't even think about it, 'cause it's not gonna happen. Ever. End of discussion, chapter closed, roll credits, finito completo. Deal with it."

She stared, waiting for him to break his gaze, or crack a joke. He did neither.

A tired half-smile broke through her stony demeanor. "I'm going to bed," she told him.

He swaggered to the door, slapping its panel. "I'll walk you there," he told her. His steely eyes dared her to argue.

She didn't. Not even when he held her hand.

* * *

The upper level of the Habitation Wing afforded Starfire complete solitude. Hers was the only room upstairs, next to the nursery that wasn't needed yet. She hated the quiet, and needed it all the same.

She stood at the end of the hall, watching the city through the bay window. At the right angle, she could see all the way to the end of the street, where the last of S.T.A.R. Labs' hazmat trucks were pulling away from the cleaned scene outside the Compound. In the morning, city workers would arrive and start putting the street back together.

It had been a glorious battle, one that made her heart ring. She sighed. With each battle she fought, and each foe she bested, she felt a little of herself return, filling the shell that had awoken on the beach at Blackfire's feet.

"Starfire," she heard suddenly, without the warning of footsteps in the hall.

Her hand shot to her chest at the sound of the voice behind her, pressing between the straps of her honor armor. Her heart pounded in her breast, but not for the memory of the battle. Her blood boiled, charging her veins with unbearable heat.

She didn't turn around. She didn't dare. Her face was a traitor, and would give her away in an instant. "Hello, Robin," she said, her voice flat and ugly.

His scent overpowered her. She felt him move behind her, a rustling of cape and Kevlar and muscle. He started to speak, but lost his words halfway through the first syllable, and fell silent. Closing her eyes, she tried to banish him from her senses.

"I wanted to see how you were doing," he said. It wasn't what he meant to say the first time, and they both knew it. "Vic said you were sick earlier today. You seemed okay in the field, but I thought—"

"I am fine," she said tightly. Her hands clasped over her chest as if to keep her heart from bursting.

He hesitated. "That's…good. That's good," he said.

Starfire clenched her eyes, wishing with all of her might for Robin to leave. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out, and locked her legs so she could not run.

"I'm just staying through the morning. Making a few adjustments to my bike," he said. His voice was a gossamer fraction of his normal, commanding tone. Starfire heard the uncertainty in him, if only because he filled her ears to the exclusion of her own thoughts. "I'll keep to the Bay, and be gone before you know it."

"Yes," she whispered hoarsely.

She heard his boots shuffle away. A prayer of relief crossed her clamped tongue. But to her horror, the footsteps stopped after only a few feet.

"I tried to stay away," she heard Robin say. "I wanted to. I didn't even realize that I had come back until I saw…" He swallowed audibly. "It doesn't matter. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I tried to…"

A dam broke in Starfire. The heat pulsing through her became excruciating. She shuddered, and turned, and found relief in the cool, empty gaze waiting behind her. Her body moved before her mind could decide.

Robin balked at her purposeful stride, and stepped back. "Starfire?"

His question died as her lips crashed into his. A fervent hunger exploded in her, and poured into Robin through the force of her kiss. She kneaded his hair with a forceful grasp, pressing against him until her deafening heartbeat thrummed against his own.

He emerged from the kiss with a gasp, tongue-tied, tongue-tired, shocked and awed at the naked desire swimming in her eyes. His hands found her hips, and he hesitated, unsure if he should push her away, or draw her closer still. "What—?"

Starfire slammed him against the wall. His teeth rattled as the thin alloy bent behind him, leaving a divot roughly the shape of his torso. When his eyes straightened, he saw Starfire's face in his, leering at him with a predatory smile. Her body pressed into him, pinning him with his feet three inches off the floor.

She kissed him again, and grasped him by the tunic. They staggered down the hall with no more words, no more questions, no more fatigue. They broke only to open the door to her room before they lost themselves in each other.

**To Be Continued **


	36. Ascendance: Birthright

_Disclaimer_

**Teen Titans** is a registered trademark of DC Comics and Cartoon Network Inc. All trademarked characters, locations, themes and ideas are used without permission in a work of fan-created fiction. The following has been done without profit for purely entertainment purposes. All original concepts, characters, themes and ideas within are the copyrighted property of the author, and are not to be reproduced without his prior consent. Additional information used in creating **Teen Titans: Adaptation** is courtesy of Titans Tower Online.

* * *

Dawn crawled under The Hideout's door. The warm color trickled down the stairs, pooling at the entrance of the bar below, where it cast irritant glimmerings at the bar.

Jinx felt the new day pressing on her back. She grumbled, and hunched on her stool. The heavy bags under her eyes wrinkled with her grimace as she drained her glass and pounded it on the bar top. "Another," she grunted.

The light snore drifting from Scruffy's beard became a snort. He jerked out of his light doze, pushing himself off of the mirror spanning the bar's back wall. A scowl fused the bushy brows over the old bartender's eyes, which he swept across the menagerie of children still haunting his establishment. "The hell? Are you all still here? It's…oh-six-hundred!" he grunted, checking his wristwatch. "Get the hell out. Last call was three hours ago."

A chorus of groans and grunts arose from either side of Jinx. At the end of the bar, a copper-headed behemoth lifted his glass as if to hurl it at Scruffy. The behemoth's eyes refused to uncross, he let his mug _clunk_ back onto the bar. "C'mon, Scruff," Mammoth slurred. "W're celebratin'."

"Yeah," Gizmo sneered from the stool next to Mammoth's, "it's a party!" He raised his Shirley Temple and looked down the bar. Schadenfreude twisted his face as he called, "Here's to the Teen Tyrants! Great job, scuzzwads. Way to go."

Shimmer leaned around Jinx to shoot Gizmo a venomous look. "Don't get pissy with me, Mik. You two could've come back when you busted out. It's not my fault you've been moping around the city with nothing to do."

"Yeah!" chimed the trio of Billy duplicates sitting beside Shimmer.

"Maybe we didn't feel like crawling back to the same crew that let us rot in stinkin' jail," Mammoth slurred into his glass.

Huffing, Shimmer said, "Let it go, Baran!"

The middle Billy leaned back, and jeered, "Y'all got stupid enough to get caught."

"Why would we stick our necks out for a couple of losers?" the Billy at the end agreed, earning a nod from his duplicates.

"Getting dry here…" Jinx mumbled, pushing her glass at Scruffy.

The old bartender scowled. "We're closed. Go home."

"Home! Oh, there's another thing!" Gizmo cried, and jumped up on his barstool. "I spend weeks amping up that crappy hero high-rise into a masterpiece, and what happens? You let those jerk-offs stroll back in and take it from you!"

"Maybe if you had told us about their secret tunnel under the Tower…" sneered Shimmer. "Oh, wait. You didn't tell us about that. Didn't you know about it? Or did you just forget to mention it?"

A sylph of silver and lilac pushed Shimmer aside to shove her empty glass over the bar top. The glass shattered behind the bar, earning her a fierce look from Scruffy and Shimmer. Blackfire grinned sloppily at the disgusted Shimmer, and said, "You humans are hilarious. Look at you, whining about who betrayed who. You lost a little speck of a tower, and you can't stop mewling about it."

Shimmer cringed at the eighty-proof breath wafting from Blackfire's mouth. "And what are you doing, princess? Celebrating?"

The dotted brows above Blackfire's eyes crashed together. Blackfire swept the drink out of Shimmer's hands and emptied it, ice and all. The cubes crunched between her teeth as she said, "My little sister beat me up. You want to know what I'm going to do? I'm going to sober up, and then I'm going to figure out how to destroy her and everything she loves. And I'm going to get it done a lot faster without all this dead weight holding me back."

She squeezed the glass, shattering it. Shards bounced off of Shimmer's face, making her flinch. Furious, Shimmer rose off her stool, standing on tiptoe to crane her scowl toward the smug Tamaranian. "Listen, you fat alien bitch…"

Blackfire grasped the leather straps binding Shimmer's chest, and lifted the transmuter clean off her feet. "You want to say that again? Arthax ki rutha!" she snarled.

The air around Shimmer danced. "I will boil you from the inside," she uttered.

"Ooh, catfight!" one of the Billys crowed, elbowing his duplicates.

"Frag her, Sherbet," Gizmo cheered at Blackfire.

Mammoth's hand closed around Gizmo without warning. The behemoth lifted his impish friend from the stool in a drunken rage. "Don't you cheer against my sister!" he sprayed at Gizmo.

Scruffy winced, and prepared to take cover behind the bar. He knew from experience when not to intervene with disagreements in The Hideout, a common enough risk considering his clientele. But he stopped at the sound of rattling glass.

Without warning, every glass on the bar exploded, erupting into a spray of clear sand in bursts of pink radiance. The glass spray stopped everyone cold at the bar. Together, the former Tyrants turned toward the crackling source of the pink radiance, seated in their midst.

"Shut up," Jinx muttered at the dusty remains of her glass. "All of you just shut up. None of you even realize what we lost here, do you?"

After a moment of confused silence, one of the Billys raised his hand, and ventured, "Uh…a tower?"

"We had a real shot at being somebody. We had the power, the resources, and all the time in the world to make it into the big leagues. We had everything," said Jinx, her eyes still buried in the bar top. "We had something special. Now? Now we have nothing. We're less than nothing. We're ten months of time, wasted. I thought it would be different. I just thought…"

Jinx slumped forward. Her breath scattered the glass dust under her chin. "Whatever," she grunted. "Just whatever."

The rest of the bar stared at her, too confused to speak. Their dead silence broke for gasps when the door at the top of the stairs burst in with a _bang_.

Heavy boots traipsed down the stairs, carrying unsteady legs. Dull body armor followed, its blue and red paint scuffed with battle scars. A two-toned helmet lurched into The Hideout, the eyes within bloodshot and accusing as they fell on the gathering at the bar.

"Look who it is," Ravager slurred. He swept the empty bottle in his hand across the span of the bar, staggering toward them. "It's the biggest bunch of losers I've ever seen. What's up, losers?"

Shimmer fell, yelping as Blackfire flexed her glowing hands. Violet light poured into Blackfire's scowl as she turned on Ravager. "You speak boldly for the crown prince of fools, Wilson," Blackfire growled.

"All your big talk and plans," Mammoth grunted, "and what did we wind up with? Nothin'." He swiveled his back to Ravager and slouched over the bar.

"Why are you even here, numb nuts? Y' got another scheme?" Gizmo said, dropping from Mammoth's lazy grasp. Bending over, the imp slapped the backside of his green jumpsuit, and said, "Well, scheme this."

"Yeah," one Billy harrumphed.

"Go on an' get," the other two harmonized.

"You're the lamest, most pathetic bag of hair I've ever seen, Grant," Shimmer said, dusting off her taut leggings as she stood. "You screwed every one of us with your stupid plans. I am squatting in a bar—"

"Which is closed," Scruffy said.

"—because of you. So shove your plans, and your monologues, and your little toys, and your stupid, stupid mask up your ass, and get the hell out of here," Shimmer spat.

Ravager swayed, his boots planted to the floor. He stared. Then, he bent forward, and worked his helmet off with one hand. The red and blue colors spun together as the helmet bounced at his feet.

The face underneath gave pause to the crowd at the bar. Ravager's face held heavier bags than any of theirs, drooping above a thin, whiskery shadow over his jaw. His greasy hair jutted in wild directions. The wild caliber of his eyes shot through the bar, bounced off the mirror, and doubled back upon their owner.

"You're absolutely right," he grunted. "I made a mistake. I made nothing but mistakes, and I ruined it for everyone. And I'm sorry."

Booming silence met his apology. Then, Gizmo crinkled his cheeks, and drawled, "Okay…"

"I tried to honor my dad's memory. I tried fighting his war for him, the way he would have. With tricks. With shadow games. With layers, and manipulation, and subtlety, and guile." He staggered closer, his eyes locked on them even while his body tilted. "And do you know what I discovered?"

Jinx murmured, "You sucked at it."

He jabbed his bottle at her. "I sucked at it! Yes! I'm not my father. I don't fight in the shadows. I am what I am. I am a ravager! I tear out my enemies' throats with tooth and claw, and I revel in it!"

Three identical, quizzical looks filled the far end of the bar. "Y' lost us, hoss," the middle Billy confessed.

"Join me," Ravager said, and swept his arms out. "If this is the end of the Teen Tyrants, then let's end it right. One more charge! Half a league, half a league, half a league onward! Let's storm the ivory tower of those prim, perfect little do-gooders!"

Shimmer grimaced. "You're kidding. And drunk."

"'Yes' to the second, 'no' to the first," Ravager crowed. "Come on! No plans! No schemes! We batter through their drawbridge, and we mow through their castle, and we don't stop until six mutilated sacks of blood and bone lie steaming in our wake!"

A rumbling stirred Mammoth's chest as he glanced back at Ravager's breathless declaration. Mammoth flicked his eyes toward the rest of his former cohorts, gauging their lukewarm reactions. "No plans?" he mused.

"We'll kill the Titans! We'll grind them under our heel, and take whatever we want, and burn the rest!" cried Ravager. "Let's be Tyrants one more time!"

He hurled his empty bottle over their heads. It smashed into the bar mirror, shattering their long reflection into a thousand shards. The crash startled Scruffy, driving him under the bar for cover.

Blackfire rubbed her bruised jaw in contemplation. "Payback would be nice," she said. "And I love the idea of drunken idiot meat shields running in front of me."

Stumbling from his stools, Billy condensed his three selves into one. "Shoot," he said, "I'm up for a good scrap. After that beat-down they handed me downstairs? Hell, yeah!"

Mammoth's giant hands mashed the bar, splintering its lacquered wood as he shoved himself onto his feet. "No plans! Let's crush 'em like beer cans!" he roared.

Looking to either side of her, Shimmer sagged, and sighed. Then she drew herself upright, and said, "Screw it. Let's go melt some faces."

"Yeah! Slash and burn!" Gizmo squealed, and jumped from his stool. Four mechanical legs sprouted from his pack to carry him above the rest.

All eyes fell to the silent, wilted Jinx. She swiveled on her stool, her long braids swaying behind her as she affixed Ravager with a cold, crackling stare. He said nothing more, waiting unflinchingly for her answer.

"This is the last time, Grant," Jinx said. "I never want to see you again after this."

He smirked. "If we do this right, you won't have reason to." He brandished his sabers with a flourish, scoring deep welts into the floor as he swept them in a line. "Yes! One last, glorious stand! We'll tear them apart! We will conquer them!"

Then he doubled over and vomited.

Jinx sighed and lifted her boots while the other Tyrants skittered back from the advancing wave of Ravager's bile. "Let's run some coffee through you first," she said.

* * *

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Ascendance**: _Birthright_

"…wow," whispered Robin.

He lay on the floor, staring up at the blackened ceiling through cracked lenses. His mask was the only thing he wore. His clothes lay across the room, scattered, but somehow intact. The first rays of dawn had awoken him after less than two hours of sleep. He felt exhausted, damp, sore, and sticky.

He glowed.

Beside him slumbered a glistening shape of sculpted gold. Her muscles and curves thrummed with shallow breath. Radiant hair curled around her, twisting around her arm, and trailing down her thigh.

Starfire glowed.

Robin sat up, bracing himself on his hands. He watched the sunrise through the bare window of the far wall. Sunrise shone across the opposite side of the Compound. Its colors filled the skyline, turning the wall of skyscrapers outside the window into a long, dazzling mirror.

The colors danced across Starfire's skin, filling every shadow with brilliant warmth. For the first time, Robin understood her Tamaranian lack of modesty. If everyone on her world looked even a fraction as she did in the dawn, he couldn't imagine ever wanting to cover such a sight.

He felt a curious tension in his cheeks. Touching his face, he found an enormous smile in his lips. It felt odd to feel such an expression in his features, as though it had wandered off someone else's face and onto his. The thought made him chuckle.

A soft gasp escaped the red curtain of hair over Starfire. She stirred, muscles bunching under her skin, rippling in the dawn. One green eye pierced her hair and found him at once, making his smile double.

"Good morning," he murmured.

The glaze in her eye faded. The tension in her body eased as she rolled up onto her hip, pushing back her scarlet curtain. Starfire blinked at him for a moment, and then turned her gaze to the rest of the room.

"You're just in time for the sunrise," Robin said as Starfire pushed onto her feet.

She ignored the comment, and found her armor across the room, where it had been flung violently enough to dent the wall. She stepped into its straps and worked her hips into the violet metal, her face a mask of concentration.

Robin stood and began collecting the pieces of his uniform. "We should go downtown to Al's for breakfast," he said. His smile watered at the thought of greasy pancakes dripping with butter and syrup. "After that, maybe we could find a real bed…for sleep, I mean."

Starfire pulled her boots up over her thighs in silence.

As he slid into his black leggings, Robin let his attention drift across the room and back in time. The memory threatened to break his face with the force of his grin. "You could use some furniture in here," he remarked, and popped his neck. "Not that I'm complaining, but after last night, I could really use—"

"Last night is done," Starfire said, and locked her bracer over her arm.

Her biting tone stopped Robin cold. He felt the giddy weightlessness in his chest falter as he looked up. "Kory?" he said, startled.

She secured her other bracer. Fully dressed, she met his gaze with piercing eyes. "Last night is done," she repeated slowly. "Please leave."

Robin's stomach plummeted. He dropped his tunic, letting the heavy vest flop onto the bare floor. "Kory, what is this? What's wrong?" he said. "I thought…after last night, I thought we…? We need to talk about …"

"There is nothing to talk about." Starfire strode toward him, exuding ice and purpose in her slow gait. Her eyes hovered in his face, pointedly ignoring the massive, whitish scar in the middle of his chest. "And there is no 'we.' You need to leave now."

His confusion collapsed into a scowl as she stopped before him. He frowned hard enough to fracture the cracked lenses in his mask, skewing her cold visage into fragments. "Last night was your idea," he insisted.

"Last night, you fulfilled a biological imperative," she said, cutting him off in a stern tone. "What happened between us could just as easily have happened with Garfield, or Ryuko, or any boy."

"Biological…?" Robin felt his heart stop. His fists shook at his side as he glared through kaleidoscope lenses. "You grabbed me. You kissed me. I thought…I don't know what I thought. But now you're telling me—?"

"I did not choose you," she told him. "You were simply there. I thank you for your assistance—"

"Assistance?" Robin roared.

She didn't blink. "You need not repeat everything I say, Robin," she told him. "And there is no need to shout."

"You kissed me! You dragged me into your room!" Robin shouted. "Biological imperative? What the hell was I last night? Your stud? You just needed a quickie to get your hormones in check?"

Starfire let his comment stew between them. She watched him heave, his cheeks flushed, his jaw set. A sliver of her sated hunger arose, until she tamped it down with a cold thought.

"Did you think that intercourse would magically remedy your previous actions?" she asked him in a low voice. "That I would forget that you abandoned me? That you replaced us all with your team in the East? That you treat everyone in your life as a disposable resource?"

"I thought—"

"You were mistaken. Now please leave."

Robin trembled. His voice thickened into a hoarse whisper. "Coming here was a mistake."

She blinked once. "Yes. It was."

Kicking his boots ahead of him, Robin stormed out of her door with the rest of his clothes bunched in his arms.

Starfire watched him vanish behind the closing doors. Her eyes lingered at the scar on his back, the one that matched the scar on his chest. She lasted until the doors sealed shut before she broke into tears.

* * *

Incense cradled the room in a muted fragrance. The shades were drawn, their edges glowing with a fresh day. A new day. Another day in a string of days that made no sense, but were all the same.

Bushido knelt before the altar, his head bowed, his posture perfect and relaxed. A pair of candles flickered at either end of his altar, gilding his keikogi with their glow. His katana rested between the candles, unsheathed. Its steel reflected his gaze back upon him.

He spoke, breaking an hour of silence. "I have been patient. I have done all you could have asked," he said.

He waited.

"I am not asking for forgiveness. I merely wish for a sign."

He waited.

"Speak to me," he said, bowing his head. "Give me a sign."

He waited.

"Give me a sign."

Nothing.

His eyes snapped open.

Roaring, Bushido grasped the sides of the altar and ripped it free from its mounting. The altar shattered against the far wall. His sword flashed at him in the dark before it clattered to rest on the floor amidst splinters and smashed, smoldering wax.

He stared, reining in his heaving breath. A sigh dropped his chin to his chest and crushed his eyelids shut. He crossed the room and collected his sword from the wreckage, wiping the blade clean before sheathing it at his waist. He left his room without giving the ruined altar a second glance.

By the time he reached the Commons downstairs, Bushido's sullen demeanor had submerged beneath a smile. A tantalizing aroma wafted through the open door, accompanied by sounds of sizzling bacon and clanking pans. He beamed as he entered, and chirped, "Good morning."

Victor glanced up from the stovetop. Despite the bags under his eyes, the erstwhile cyborg grinned with good humor. "Morning, Ry. You're up early."

"A day of possibility cannot begin until you do," Bushido said sagely, and bellied up to the island counter on a stool.

Victor's smile spread as he turned back to his burgeoning breakfast on the stovetop. Dual griddles cooked his pancakes on the front burners, while the back burners cooked his bacon and an omelet in separate pans. Shaking his head, Victor said, "You always come up with the prettiest ways to say really obvious stuff. With that kind of talent, you oughtta write fortune cookies."

"Alas, the secret to my wisdom has been exposed," Bushido said. Then he asked, "And you? You seem to be handling yesterday's 'changes' quite capably."

"Sleeping on the couch isn't as easy as a good ol' recharge," admitted Victor, as he twisted his neck with a long, loud series of pops. "But nothing's gonna beat a full-on breakfast to top off my brand new tank." He tossed both griddles, flipping his pancakes.

Frowning, Bushido said, "I actually meant your being a living hive of technology now. But your voracious eating habits are also good information to keep at hand, I suppose."

"Oh, right. That part."

Victor reached for the bacon pan, and then hissed, and pulled his hand back from the hot handle. Closing his eyes, he flexed the offended hand. His fingers blackened, merging together as they ballooned into a quilted oven mitt. The seamless transformation took Bushido aback as Victor used his mitt-hand to pick up the bacon pan.

Once he set the pan on the counter, his mitt reverted into a hand. He held his wriggling fingers aloft and grinned. "It's gonna take some getting used to, but I think I can get a handle on it. Getting the 'all-over' thing down pat is a must before I stick my pretty new mug back into a fight, I'll tell you that."

"Of course." Bushido's gaze wandered from the mountainous breakfast assembling on Victor's plate. A green shrub poked above the back of the couch, so still and silent that it took Bushido another moment to recognize. "Is that Garfield sitting over there? Quietly? Without the television on?"

Bushido wandered over to investigate. He found Beast Boy seated on the couch, legs crossed and eyes closed, with hands poised on his knees. The shapeshifter's shoulders rose and fell in steady rhythm, the only movement he betrayed.

"Yeah. I've caught him doing that a couple times," Victor said, and glanced back at Beast Boy on the couch. "He says it's something Raven showed him. Some Zen thing that dampens sounds and smells. If you ask me, it doesn't work. Salad Head is still just as loud and smelly as ever."

Without turning around, Beast Boy said, "I do it so everyone else's noise and smells don't bug me so much, you carnivore. And clear some room on the stove for Raven's teapot. She'll be here in another minute or so. I can hear her coming down the hall."

"Well, that's not creepy at all," Victor quipped. He found a filled teapot waiting by the stove, and set it on one of the burners.

"Interesting," Bushido said, and rubbed his jaw in study of Beast Boy's meditative spell.

Beast Boy blinked his eyes open. His legs unfolded as he stood, his joints crackling as he stretched. "Not really. I could hear everybody's heartbeat from pretty much anywhere in the Compound once I figured out how to filter out all the other stuff, and they all sound different. Like Meathead back there," he said, and chucked his thumb at Victor. "His ticker sounds normal enough now, but that battery in his chest still buzzes like his old one did. And you always have a really slow heartbeat. It's like you're never excited."

"I get excited," Bushido said. "Just never surprised. With senses as sharp as yours, I imagine you can empathize."

"Ry-guy, it doesn't matter how far I see, smell, or hear," said Beast Boy, as he strolled toward the Commons door. "I don't think life is ever gonna stop surprising me."

Beast Boy leaned next to the doorframe with a ready smile as Raven trudged into the room. She wore her cloak over rumpled pajamas with its hood drawn over her head. A sour expression pierced the shadow over her face.

"Tea first," she grunted as Beast Boy drew breath to greet her. "Then cheer."

His jaw clicked shut. Following her into the kitchen area, he scratched his head, and said, "Water's on. And you look like hell."

"Your capacity for flattery underwhelms me," she said, casting a nasty look over her shoulder.

Her hands drifted to her bulbous stomach, a gesture that narrowed Beast Boy's eyes. With two great strides, he caught up to her, and studied her cloaked outline. "Are you okay? You know you're supposed to tell us when something new comes up. You promised the Doc," he said.

Her nasty look became one of annoyance. "I have stomach cramps. Happy? Now, can I sit down, or would you like to hear about my hangnail too?"

"Well, that explains the crankiness," he retorted, and pulled out a stool for her at the counter. "A little breakfast should settle the ol' tummy. And a little eyeliner might help with the other problem," he added impishly.

"You slay me, Garfield," Raven deadpanned, rolling her eyes. When she sat down on the stool, she stiffened. Hopping off her seat, she shot Beast Boy a spiteful look. "Oh, that's mature," she snapped.

He frowned, confused, as she wiped her hand across the stool's upholstery. "Uh, thank you? What did I do?"

Rubbing her dry fingers, she scowled at him, and said, "Did you spill something and forget to clean it up? Is this a prank? It soaked through my cloak."

Beast Boy glanced at the stool, and then at Victor and Bushido, who mirrored his confusion. "Raven, nobody spilled anyth—"

He stopped as Raven opened her cloak to examine her pajama bottoms. A dark, glistening stain swallowed the pants' inseams, running from her knees to her drawstrings. Even as Beast Boy watched in shock, the wetness crawled down her legs.

"I'm…guessing that's not an accident," Victor drawled, transfixed by the incomprehensible sight.

Raven's ashen pallor whitened as she stared through the gap in her cloak. "…no. My water broke," she uttered. Another pang rippled through her stomach, one she knew now to be no simple cramp. "It's happening."

Several flabbergasted seconds later, Victor shook his head free of its stupor. "Okay. Ryuko, get on the horn and get us the fastest colorblind cabbie in the city. I'll call Doctor Brown and let her know we're taking Raven to the nearest hospital—"

"No!" Raven exclaimed, breaking free of her own spell. "No, you can't. I don't know how much control I'm going to have during the…episode. And you've seen what I can do to light bulbs. I can't risk the same thing happening around ventilators and defibrillators."

Victor paused another second, and then nodded. "Right. Change of plans. Ryuko, get down to Supplies. Dig up some gas lamps, gas stoves…anything we might need that doesn't run on juice. I think there are some old camping supplies buried in the corner.

"I'm going to call the Doc," he said, and turned back to Raven. "I don't know what kind of timetable we're on…?" She answered his questioning look with a shake of her head. "We'll still need her to check out the kid…not that anything is going to go wrong. Sarah?" he said to the empty air.

"_Yes, Cyborg_?" the ceiling answered in Sarah's voice.

"Holo down to Sickbay and rig up a maternity suite," Victor instructed her. Then he looked to Beast Boy, and said, "Get her into a gown and into that bed. Anything she needs, you get or you do. Let's go!"

Raven teetered back against the island counter as Victor and Bushido strode out of the Commons. Another pang—a contraction—made her shiver. She felt the soft, constant babble of emotion inside of her begin to dwindle. She looked to Beast Boy, and her breath stuttered at the helpless, dumbfounded fear that twisted his face.

"Garfield?" she asked.

Her soft question shattered his silence into a dozen blurted thoughts. "I don't—! What do we—? How do I—? Oh, man, I'm gonna—!"

She staggered off the counter, and said gingerly, "Garfield…"

Wrenching his hair, Beast Boy screwed his eyes shut and moaned. "Why didn't I pay attention during those stupid classes? I don't even know what a Lamaze is! This is too soon, I can't—"

"Garfield." She spoke his name firmly as she took his hands, wresting them gently from his hair. "I need you. Please."

His eyes snapped open and fell upon her pointed gaze. A deep, shuddering sigh whistled through him. When it had passed, he grasped her by the shoulders and nodded. "Right. Freak out later." Steering her toward the door, he said, "Come on, we've got someone waiting for us. Let's go say hi."

* * *

The red Jolly Rancher spiraled above her, launched from Tek's pursed lips with a puff. She leaned back in her chair and caught it in her mouth again.

Her feet propped on the Ops console, she sighed around her candy, and laced her fingers behind her head. The console's screen displayed live footage of their doorstep, where city crews had already arrived to deal with the damage from last night. Most of the debris had been cleared already, and a monster of a machine rolled over the street's foundation, laying a fresh, glistening coat of asphalt behind it.

_We should send those guys gift baskets_, she thought, and spat and caught her candy again. With all the municipal havoc the Titans wreaked, Tek felt equal stabs of guilt and admiration for the city's cleanup crews. Every one of her plasma bolts that missed its mark meant another hour of work for them.

As she idly wondered what kind of bath gels best apologized for putting craters into streets, she saw Starfire entering Ops. Tek glanced at the clock, and then swung her feet off the console. "Six o'clock, finally," she said, and stretched. "Nergh. Nothing like a graveyard shift after eighteen solid hours of shenanigans."

"I apologize for being late," mumbled Starfire.

"S'okay. Not much to monitor, except the guys in orange outside. Hey, if you were a construction worker, would you want a loofah?" Tek asked. Then she paused, frowning at the black, wadded mass Starfire twisted between her hands. "Hey, what'cha got there?"

Starfire jolted, jerking her hands apart. The wadded material unfurled, becoming a curtain of glistening fabric with a scalloped edge. Drawing the fabric to her chest, Starfire stammered, "It is…"

"Huh. Is that like a blanket, or something? It looks kind of like…" She trailed off, scrutinizing the metallic fabric. Her eyes went wide with shock. She reeled back, gasping. The Jolly Rancher shot down her throat.

"Please," Starfire said, wringing the cape as Tek gagged on the candy. "It is not what you—"

Tek coughed the candy back into her mouth. "No. Way," she wheezed. Her pained expression became a grin as she looked up at Starfire. "No way! That's so great, Kory! Did you and Tim really…? Wow! That's—!"

Starfire's cringe stopped Tek in mid-gush. Tek dulled her smile as she watched her friend's eyes fall to the cape in her hands.

"Wow," Tek said mutedly, "So it's not great. It's not? What happened?"

Starfire started to speak, but then hiccupped as a heated voice behind Tek fumed, "Hello? Is anyone here? Why can't I leave?" Starfire whisked the cape behind her back and made her face into stone as Robin stormed into Ops from the other side of the balcony.

"Tek? What's—?" The capeless Teen Wonder stumbled at the sight of Starfire standing behind Tek.

Tek withered in the silent crossfire of their eyes. She could feel Starfire's stony look burning through the back of her head to reach Robin, whose cracked lenses smoldered like white-hot embers. "Wow. So…is anybody going to say anything? Maybe get a dialogue going? Yes? No? …okay, no."

Robin recovered, and zeroed his masked glower upon Tek, speaking as though they were the only two people present. "What the hell is going on? Your computer won't let me fuel my bike. It won't open the hatch. When I left the Bay, it locked me out. I can't even get to my bike anymore!"

"That'd be my fault," Victor called, surprising everyone as he jogged into Ops behind Starfire. "Thought you might try your disappearing act again, like yesterday."

"Well, would you please open the Bay?" Only Starfire noticed Robin's slight glance in her direction as he growled, "I need to leave. Now."

"Sorry, Wonder Boy. Nobody's leaving right now," Victor said, beaming. "Raven's down in Sickbay. It's time."

"Time? Time for what?" Tek asked. Then she gasped, and choked on her candy a second time. Doubling over, she spat out the malicious Jolly Rancher, and exclaimed, "It's time? Time-time? Already?"

"Beast Boy's getting her settled in right now. We can't take her to a hospital, so it's all going down in Sickbay. I want all hands on deck for moral support and baby-fielding."

Tek's squeal brushed the upper threshold of human hearing as she clapped her hands. "This is so amazing! I'm gonna go find a camera! Do we own a camera? Sarah, find me a camera!" she cried, and scampered out of Ops.

With no one left between her and Robin, Starfire soured. "I heartily congratulate Raven," she began, "but—"

"I have work to do," Robin insisted, speaking over Starfire. "There's—"

"Nuh-uh. Shut it, both of you," Victor snapped, cowing Robin and Starfire into silence. "I am going to see you both downstairs with big, big smiles and happy thoughts in the next five minutes. Because if I don't see that, the next thing I'll see is me finding all kinds of new ways to make both of your lives as miserable as I can."

"But—!" Robin and Starfire harmonized.

"Nah-ah-ah! I don't care about 'your' new solo act," he arched at Robin, and then turned to Starfire to add, "or 'your' lady issues! This is Raven's day. Box your issues up and get your asses down to Sickbay." As he stalked out of Ops, he added, "And seriously? Just kiss already. You're not fooling anybody."

The pair stood statuesque in the emptied Ops. Gradually, their reluctant gazes met. The silence didn't end at their lips. It crawled in their expressions. It spilled through their eyes.

The space between them became an echoing gulf. One word could have bridged the gulf. Two words could have made it vanish. A sentence, spoken by either of them, would end it.

Wordlessly, Robin walked out of Ops.

Starfire drew his cape out from behind her back. She kneaded its metallic weave, watching its utter blackness catch the early morning through the skylight. Then she cast the cape over the central console's chair and trailed after him.

* * *

Beast Boy checked the door panel with his hip and backed into Sickbay. He cradled a small plastic bucket full of feathery ice chips in the crook of his elbow, underneath a pile of blankets balanced against his chest.

"All we had were ice cubes," he said, and blindly set the blankets on the bed next to Raven's. "So I had to get a steak knife and go all Norman Bates on 'em. Is there anything I'm forgetting?"

When he looked up from the blanket pile, he stopped. The center biobed had been rigged with a set of metal stirrups and a bedpan, and lay swathed in sterile cotton sheets, all courtesy of the Sarah Sim standing courteously to one side. But the birthing bed lacked a critical element: "Raven?" he asked, turning in a circle.

Raven huddled in the corner of the room, sitting with her knees to her chest. Her face was buried in the stretched fabric of her white medical gown. Her shoulders trembled while she linked her arms around her legs.

Beast Boy's ears pricked with her rapid heartbeat and the soft, wet, erratic sound of her breathing. "Raven, are you okay?" he said, darting to her side. He knelt, and tried to lift her head. She resisted his hand, which grew wet against her cheek.

"Stop it," she grunted. "I'm fine."

Rubbing his wet fingertips, Beast Boy pulled back. "Are you…crying?" he asked.

"No," she snapped into her gown. "This is just my water breaking again."

He sat down next to her and leaned against the wall. "I don't actually know enough about biology to know if you're being sarcastic or not," he said.

"I'm fine," she said again, and lifted her head. Glistening trails stained her cheeks, framing her puffy scowl. "It's just hormones. It's nothing." Her chin dipped as a fresh wave of tears overwhelmed her eyelids. "It's stupid."

He reached for her arm, but hesitated when he saw her flinch. Dropping his hand, Beast Boy murmured, "It's not stupid. Raven, this is a big deal. It's okay to feel a little scared—"

"I'm not scared, Beast Boy," Raven snapped, turning her teary glower against him. "I'm never scared. I'm…" She sighed, and said, "I'm mad."

"…at me?"

"At myself," she said, exasperated. "After all this time, I'm still such an idiot. I must be the dumbest person alive to…"

As she trailed off, Beast Boy offered her a tepid smile. "First off, I'd beat you in a dumb-off, hands down," he told her. "No contest. Do you remember the time I tried cooking a tofu dog with some copper wire and an outlet 'cause the microwave was broken?"

An amazing noise emerged from Raven. It was choked and garbled, and masked behind her sniffling. But Beast Boy thought he might have heard the beginnings of a laugh somewhere deep in her throat before she bit her lip.

Beast Boy grinned, and bumped her shoulder with his. "See? So how could you be dumber than that? I dare you."

She deflated in a sigh. Her gaze fell back to her knees, unable to meet his eyes any longer. "I know it was all a lie. There wasn't anything real about what we had. But...I miss him. I don't want to, but I do. I wish he were here," she said.

"Oh," Beast Boy said, sobering. "Him."

She grit her teeth against the tears dribbling from her chin. Her voice grew husky as she said, "I told you it was stupid. Dominic didn't love me. But he was the closest I'm ever going to get. And he's gone because I…"

"Hey. Hey, look at me," Beast Boy said, nudging her shoulder with his again. "You know what I thought about that spindly goth freak. But total truth? I honestly believe that he loved you, Raven. I swear he did."

"Then you're right. You are dumber than I am," she muttered.

When she tried to turn away, he nudged her again. "I'm being serious. He was creepy, evil, and way too needy. But he loved you, Raven. And even if you don't believe that, you can't really sit there and tell me that he's going to be your only shot ever."

"It's true," she said.

"Oh, that's crap," Beast Boy scoffed. "Sure, you're a tough nut to crack. Really tough. And cold. Like, arctic. And mean, sometimes. But come on, just look at you! You're a hottie!"

She sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "Sure," she grunted.

"Damn Skippy! Even right now, with the puffiness, and the crazy hair, and the dress that lets your butt hang out…"

Raven sniffed again, and then jolted when she felt his hand on her cheek. Beast Boy lifted her chin from her chest, wiping her tears away with his thumb. A smile filled his mouth.

"Especially now," he said. "Look at that. Totally babealicious."

"Very funny."

"Wasn't a joke. You could tell because it didn't start with 'knock-knock.' Those pouting lips, those dark eyes…plus, this whole pregnancy thing has done wonders for your boobs," he said, beaming. "I think if you drop a little baby weight in the next hour or so, we could be looking at a new Ms. California."

Raven couldn't help but smile, try though she might to fight the impulse. "You're sweet, Garfield," she murmured. "…in a demented, childish sort of way."

"Hey, I'm being totally serious here. You're amazing, Raven," Beast Boy said, cupping her cheek. "You're smart, you're tough, and even kinda funny when you want to be. And you really are drop-dead gorgeous. Hell, any guy with half a brain would…"

He trailed off, staring into her bloodshot eyes. His thumb caressed the puffy wetness of her cheek. Her tangle of lavender hair fell over her face, tickling his wrist. As Beast Boy's gaze traveled across the somber, stoic, disheveled sorceress, he felt a light turn on in his chest.

"Oh, hell," he muttered.

Raven blinked. "Garfield? Is something wrong?"

Quickly, Beast Boy brushed her hair behind her ear. His smile widened, covering his surprise. "No!" he said. "I was just saying that…that any guy with half a brain would be nuts about you."

"It's a nice fantasy, Garfield, but I don't think—" Raven's smile fell apart. She grunted, and leaned over her stomach. "The contractions. They're getting worse."

Beast Boy helped her to her feet and braced her over to the birthing bed. "Okay. Showtime. Sarah, help Raven …do whatever it is she needs to do. I'm gonna…"

Surprise creased Raven's face as she rolled onto the bed, her pale skin flashing through the back of the gown. "You're leaving?"

"No! Well, yes, but just the room, just for a second," he stammered. "I would never…I mean, I'm never gonna…I just need to round up the rest of the posse so we can, uh, wrangle up the li'l varmint. Heh."

"Oh. Well…" Raven frowned. The corners of her mouth twinged as she said, "Just…hurry back, okay?"

"Quick like a bunny," he said, slapping Sickbay's door panel. He shrank into the shape of a rabbit and bounced out of the room.

As soon as he turned the corner, he reverted, and waited for the doors to close. Grasping the wall, he banged his forehead against the cold metal plating.

"You have got to be kidding me," he swore at himself. "Raven? Really? You stupid, stupid, stupid, gorgeous, stupid man. You really are the dumbest guy on the planet. A real glutton for punishment. And now? Seriously, now? Right now? Now is when you realize it. Unbelievable."

"Beast Boy?"

Robin's voice stopped Beast Boy in mid-thump. He glanced back, and saw Robin standing behind him with a puzzled look. Starfire strode toward them both, wearing a similar expression.

Beast Boy drew a breath to explain…and choked. He gaped at Robin, letting the former Titan's scent—and its sordid story—roil in his nose. As Starfire drew near, Beast Boy split his astonishment between the pair.

"Holy crap! You guys had se...yeah…" He trailed off, suddenly abashed. Coughing, he said, "Uh, sorry. But, um, good for you?"

Starfire's curious demeanor hardened until it became the stony façade Beast Boy had come to know from her. The color of Robin's face flared for half an instant before he blanched, and set his mouth in a grim line.

"Wow. Right," Beast Boy muttered, shrinking back to the wall. He nodded toward Sickbay's doors, and said, "Hey, speaking of anything besides unexpected hookups…"

White armor trimmed in blue struck the floor behind Robin and Starfire, making them quake with the force of its landing. Tek emerged from the ratcheting alloys, flashing briefly before the aperture on her back sealed itself. She caught the camera her armored form had been carrying. A smile halved her face. "Your friendly neighborhood superhero photographer, reporting for duty!" she said, and saluted rakishly.

Victor rounded the corner. He was followed soon after by a walking pile of non-electrical equipment, the legs of which curiously resembled Bushido's. Clapping his hands, Victor announced, "Everybody ready? Why's everybody out here?"

Beast Boy and Starfire shared a look, one Robin refused to join. Too quickly, the shapeshifter said, "Nothing! I mean, we're just…psyching up for Raven's big day."

After a brief headcount, Victor's smile became a frown. "You mean you left her alone in there?"

"…Sarah's with her," Beast Boy answered weakly.

Another second ticked by under Victor's disapproving look. Then he wrapped his arm around Beast Boy's shoulders and grinned again. Dragging Beast Boy toward the doors, Victor led the way into Sickbay, and said, "Well, let's fix that. C'mon, everybody! We've got a Tiny Titan on the way. We don't wanna keep him waiting!"

* * *

The din of municipal construction drowned out Ravager's thoughtful grunt. He stared across the cracked, broken street from the shelter of an alley abutting a closed delicatessen. The glistening sight of the Compound's glass lobby stared back through a throng of orange-vested workers and their equipment.

Gizmo's glassy eyes reflected the destruction as he leaned around the corner, tucked beneath Ravager. He whistled. "Somebody scrudded that place up already," the tiny terror muttered.

Ravager nodded in agreement as he pulled back into the alley. The questioning glares of the other Tyrants waited for him to say something. He rubbed the patchy stubble on his face, and wished desperately for another cup of coffee to quell the throb that swallowed everything between his ears.

"So what's the plan?" Jinx sneered. "Sneak in through the garbage chute? Or maybe you want us to pose as door-to-door vacuum salesmen and talk our way in?"

"I could make a vacuum that'd suck the skin right off their bones," Gizmo said, rubbing his hands together as he cackled.

Mammoth's snort rustled his own greasy hair. "Balls to sneakin'. Why don't we just walk in and start punching everything and everybody 'til it's nothing but a flat lot?"

A worried look came from Billy in triplicate. He looked amongst his selves, conferring through expressions. Then he nodded, and the middlemost of him said, "Chargin' in might not be too smart. Remember all those guns they got on the inside?"

Shimmer scoffed. "Mik can handle anything that tin-plated quarterback put together. Can't you, Mik?" she said, and drummed on Gizmo's bald scalp.

Chasing Shimmer's hands away, Gizmo buried his lenses in a scowl. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I can handle it. The only problem might be is, by the time I crack his network, or get to a hard-access port, there might not be enough of me left to handle anything."

Blackfire rolled her eyes. "Diving straight into their jaws is moronic. We should wait for them to leave, let some other crisis wear them down, and then destroy them when they come home weary and off their guard."

"…didn't we try that back when we were the Fearsome Five?" Mammoth asked Jinx, scratching his head.

Jinx groaned. "Who can even keep track anymore?"

"No. Mammoth's right," Ravager growled as he massaged his temples.

Once more, astonished stares flocked to Ravager from all around him. Mammoth's eyes were the widest as he said, "Everybody else heard that too, right?" He plunged his finger into his ear, twisting through months' worth of accumulated grime.

"No sneaking," Ravager said. "We're done sneaking. But you're not thinking grandly enough. Bigger. Louder. Badder."

He glanced back out of the alley. The tremendous yellow paver trundled in front of the Compound's lobby. Fresh black asphalt glistened behind it. The noxious smell of the new street wafted into the alley, making Ravager's eyes water.

"Gizmo," said Ravager, "how are you with heavy machinery?"

A smile filled Gizmo's face with terrible joy.

* * *

Sweat and tears poured down Raven's face, indistinguishable from one another as she bit down and swallowed another scream. Dark color flushed in her cheeks. Her hair swung in heavy lavender tangles as she tossed her head from side to side. Metal chewed against metal as her feet thrashed in the bed's stirrups. Sickbay blinked around them as the lights flickered and buzzed.

Tek watched at Raven's bedside with a camera clutched at the ready. She stood next between Bushido and Starfire, who tried to keep out of the way of Raven's grasping, wrenching hand. Too many emotions welled in Tek's eyes, pouring down her smiling cheeks. "You're doing great, Raven!" she gushed, and snapped a picture.

The camera flash made Raven snarl. A hiss escaped her teeth as she glared at Tek through bloodshot eyes. "I don't see why you're crying," Raven snarled at her.

"I can't help it," Tek said, hastily mopping her eyes with the back of her hand. She sniffled, and beamed, and pointed across Raven. "See? Even Gar can't help it."

On the opposite side of the bed, Beast Boy poised on a stool, hovering next to Raven. Her other hand intertwined with his, her knuckles bone-white and trembling with the force of her grip.

"You're doing…great…" Beast Boy squeaked to her as he felt the bones of his hand contract.

Situated at the bed's end, Victor peered into the tent formed by Raven's gown and legs. A look of supreme discomfort creased his features. He forced himself to look, but only in the slightest of glances, and only when absolutely necessary. "This is beyond awkward," he said. "Not to mention that I'm the last person I can think of qualified to do…this."

Robin leaned on the far wall, his arms crossed. He watched the proceedings through broken lenses, maintaining his air of disinterest with hunched shoulders. "I don't think anyone here can call themselves 'qualified' to deliver a baby, Victor."

With a wary glance, Bushido raised his hand. "Actually…"

"No!" Raven yowled, and then gritted her teeth. "No," she said more calmly, and pushed Bushido back a step with the force of her glower.

Beast Boy gasped as his hand collapsed in Raven's grasp. "Maybe I could switch spots with Vic…" he said.

Her grip on his hand tightened, doubling him over.

Victor rifled through a sheaf of papers, which he had hastily printed when Sickbay's computer monitors began to flicker as Raven's control slipped. He squinted at the printouts, trying to read in the flickering light. "Okay. If I'm right, it's pretty much a waiting game until you're…dilated…to ten centimeters." He risked another glance under the sheet.

"Need a ruler?" Robin grunted.

Whimpering, Beast Boy said, "Maybe we should do something about the pain before—"

The lights buzzed and dimmed as Raven moaned and threw back her head. "I can handle the pain. Just—"

Her voice erupted into a cry that threw everyone at her side back a step. The belabored lights buzzing above them died with a glassy burst, plunging Sickbay into dark. A rattling cough emerged from the overhead vents, ending the soft whisper of the air conditioner. The Sarah Sim's pink skirt suit glowed vibrant for a split instant before her physical form unraveled, becoming a fog of pixels, and then nothing.

Raven's ragged grunting overwhelmed the utter blackness. Then, seconds later, something metal rattled across the room. A yellow light blossomed, illuminating the room. Bushido carried the light in a small camping lantern to the foot of Raven's bed.

Shadows crawled across Victor's heavy face in the wandering light. He watched Raven twist as he took the lantern from Bushido. "Okay," he said. "We kind of expected this. It's okay."

Glass and steel screamed through the double doors of Sickbay. The sounds of demolition brought Victor to his feet in time to feel a tremor ripple through the floor. Seconds later, the Alert klaxon bleated once. Then the whole room went deaf at the clash of two tons of metal hammering down on the other side of the doors.

Clasping her ringing ears, Tek shouted, "What the hell was that?"

Victor set the lantern down and rushed to the doors. Bushido was fast behind him, and together, they shoved the doors apart. A thick metal security shutter blocked the door frame on the other side, having descended from the wall above to seal Sickbay from the rest of the Compound.

"Lockdown," Victor said, and snarled a curse at the heavy door. "Something triggered lockdown."

Beast Boy shuffled his attention between Raven and the heavy security shutter. "Did Raven do this?" he asked.

Raven cried, and then took several bracing breaths. "I don't…think so…" she wheezed, before her voice was lost in another wracking sob.

"Whatever caused it, we're good and stuck now," Victor said, and kicked the security shutter. It gonged at him in blatant defiance. Turning, he glanced around the room, and said, "Someone should check outside, just to make sure everything's okay. Can anyone…"

He trailed off as his gaze traveled to the far wall, where Robin had been. Only empty wall remained. Glancing up, Victor saw an air vent cover hanging crookedly from a single screw.

"Damn sneaky little…" muttered Victor.

* * *

A path of ruin cut through the lobby, paved with a winding, glistening patch of fresh asphalt over the cracked tile. The battered paver grinded to a halt before the security door to Sector Prime. Shards of glass, twisted beams, crushed seats, and a flattened, splintering desk lay behind the enormous construction vehicle.

Ravager hopped down from the fender of the paver and brushed the glass dust from his armor. "Gizmo, that was terrifically awful driving," he said, his voice reverberating through his helmet.

Control jacks withdrew from the innards of the paver, retracting back into Gizmo's backpack. He grinned, and followed. "Never had a lesson in my life," he gloated.

In ones and pairs, the rest of the Tyrants followed the paver's trail into the ruins of the lobby, leery of the broken walls around them. Jinx led, cradling handfuls of crackling pink hex.

"It can't be this easy," Jinx said.

Gizmo scampered to the security door and found its control panel. His data jack stabbed into the panel's interface as Ravager stood watch behind him. "Gimmie a minute," said Gizmo.

Ravager held his arms aloft as if to answer Jinx's skepticism with the wreckage around them. "Why don't you just admit that I was right, Nichole?"

"I thought I was right," Mammoth grumbled.

As Gizmo fought with the Compound's computer, Ravager paced before the security door with a cocky gait. His gauntlet rang against the door as he pounded, and bellowed, "Come on out! The storm clouds are gathered at your gate! Come out! The gods have come to slay the titans and take their rightful place on Olympus! Come out and face us! Send us your power! Send us your might! Come out and reap the destruction you've sown with your own arrogance!"

Gizmo grimaced, focusing his thoughts into dissecting Cyborg's security measures. "We're just here to kill them, dude. Don't make it weird," he muttered. Then he brightened and pulled back as the security door unsealed itself in a pneumatic groan. "Oh! I think I got it!" he cried.

Ravager trotted back as the massive door swung outward. He drew his sabers and crossed their blades, making them intersect at the widening gap behind the door. Debris crunched behind him as the rest of his Tyrants took position at his heels.

His heart hammered in his chest. He felt his hands tremble, and tightened them around the hilts of his swords. This would be his last remaining chance, but he didn't fear failure. He knew his mistakes lay in the past, hard-won lessons all.

There would be no more tricks. No more plans. He was a warrior, a brawler, a fighter to the core. There would be no more chances because he needed no more chances. He would live up to his name, and ravage his father's killers.

The door swung open.

Ravager's chest seized at the sight of an empty Sector Prime. The sprawling hallway beyond the door echoed with his shout. "What?"

Blackbolts snuffed in Blackfire's clenched fists. She cocked her hips against her hand, and said, "There's no way they didn't hear us coming."

"Maybe they're gone," Shimmer said, letting the air settle around her. "Did anybody think to check and see if they were home?"

They stared through the empty doorway, at a loss for what came next. The swords fell from Ravager's hands as he sunk to his knees, stricken numb at the sight. A choked noise emerged from his helmet, which bent toward the floor.

"So," Mammoth said. "You guys wanna wreck the place a little?"

A black disc rimmed with gold dropped from behind the top of the security doorframe. It clattered once and stopped in front of the Tyrants. Its stylized R monogram drew the eye before it exploded with light and sound.

The flash-bang left every eye and ear in the lobby ruins useless. Even with the limited protection of his mask, Ravager staggered, clutching the sides of his head. He could barely hear himself snarl. Yet he distinctly heard the clang of the security door sealing itself again.

Forcing his eyes to work, Ravager saw a blurry red and black shape working at the seam of the security door. Ravager gathered his swords and watched the shape solidify. His watering eyes narrowed into slits.

Robin planted the last in a series of red-rimmed discs along the seam of the door before he turned. The action wasn't nearly so dramatic without his cape, but he managed as best he could. "Ravager, right?" he said. "I know your sister. Nice girl. Don't feel too bad. She didn't inherit Slade's brains either."

The Tyrants behind Ravager found their senses again, and cried and swore in surprise at the Teen Wonder's entrance. Pink sparks and lilac energy glowed behind him as Ravager advanced on Robin with readied sabers.

"You." Ravager thrust the word at Robin, as if to reach out with his very voice and throttle the life from the dispassionate Teen Wonder. "Oh, I've been waiting for you."

Robin's cracked lenses reflected the line of Tyrants before him. His voice rose above the ringing in their ears. "I've had a bad week. Let's make this quick," he said, lifting his fist.

"How about we draw it out instead?" Jinx snarled. The hex she cradled blossomed into red flame. Pillars of fire stood in her hands as she sidled past Ravager. "Slow-roasting always locks in the flavor."

"We ain't actually gonna eat him, are we?" Mammoth asked, cringing. Shimmer swatted him on the elbow.

"You must be the world's biggest fool, Titan," Ravager said. He and his Tyrants closed upon Robin, spreading out to trap him against the door. "How did you plan on getting out of here?"

"Honestly?" Robin said, meeting Ravager's glare in kind. He raised the thumb on his fist, revealing a red detonator clutched in his black glove. "I wanted to ask you the same question."

His thumb mashed the detonator control. The red-rimmed discs behind him flared.

* * *

A dusty vent cover hung low on the wall of Sector Prime rattled and thumped with commotion coming from within the air duct.

"Why are these things so freaking small?" the vent cover asked in Tek's echoing voice.

"Be thankful they are large enough to fit anyone at all," the vent cover answered itself in Bushido's strained reverberations. "Now please move faster."

"Sure. Keep complaining while you're staring at my butt. That makes me feel better."

"You insisted on going first."

"I wanted to be the super-cool sneaky ninja girl for once instead of the clod-hopper robot girl. This looks so much cooler on TV." The vent gave a thump and a girlish grunt, and then snarled in frustration. In Tek's basso impression of Victor, the vent said, "Get going. You two are the only ones small enough to fit through."

"Technically true. Victor is too large, and Starfire is too...large."

"Oh, yeah. This is 'awesome.' "

"…your butt is very nice."

"Shut up."

The vent cover burst off the wall, and the air duct behind it vomited two teens onto the floor. Tek's head knocked against the floor as she landed on her spine. Bushido crouched next to her, landing on the balls of his feet.

Glaring, Tek accepted Bushido's helping hand and clambered to her feet. Dirt and dust clung to her skin suit. She took small comfort in the same grime marring Bushido's keikogi. "Okay. Ninja Girl is done," she groaned, and rubbed her back.

Bushido nodded sagely. "So much the better. You are far too bold a spirit for their ilk."

A little smile peered through Tek's grimace. "Shut up," she said, this time playfully. "Now, let's see what the big deal is…"

She dragged the last syllable into a hiss as she turned to the security door at the end of Sector Prime. The metal of the door glowed red around its edge. Paint peeled away from the frame, curling in a heat that Tek and Bushido could feel as they drew closer.

Tek couldn't resist the temptation. She reached through the warm air and tapped the door with her fingertips. Pulling back, she yelped, "Ow! You could cook an egg on this thing!"

Tapping the door's control panel, Bushido said, "Something has disabled the door. I suspect it was fused from the other side." The panel flickered, its digital keypad fuzzing with static. He struck the panel, and added, "I cannot access security functions. Raven's abilities may be interfering with the entire Compound's systems."

They both heard an explosion on the other side of the door. Their conversation stopped dead. Hardly breathing, they listened to the stillness that followed, until another blast resounded through the thick metal.

"That is not construction noise," Bushido said.

Puckering her face, Tek added, "No guesses for who's on the other side."

Another muffled explosion made the door rattle. Tek heard a scream in the lobby. She bolted from the door and ran back to the sealed Sickbay.

"Vic!" she cried, and pounded on the door with her palms. "Vic! Vic! Trouble!"

"Slow down, kid," she heard Victor reply through the thick security shutter. "What's going on out there?"

"I don't know!" Tek said, and shared a glance with Bushido as he caught up to her. "I don't know, I don't know, but it's in the lobby, and the lobby door won't open, and there are explosions, and I think Robin is in there! So we have to figure out a way to open the door and get you out so you can help us open the other door and—"

Tek jumped back with a shriek as the corner of the security shutter bent outward without warning. Fists of burnished gold pounded the edge of the shutter out of shape, making the metal squeal as it peeled out of its housing. Starfire appeared in the gap, pushing at its edges until she could sidle through. The look on her face chased Tek back a second step as she emerged from Sickbay.

Victor emerged next, his brow hanging low over his eyes. When he saw the security door, his scowl deepened. "That's gonna be a bitch to get through," he grumbled. "Let's go."

As he left the gap, he felt a tug on the back of his borrowed sweatshirt. Glancing back, he saw Beast Boy hanging in the gap.

Beast Boy's claws scraped against the bent armored shutter. His elfin jaw tightened. "Vic? I'm not leaving. I can't just—" Beast Boy began.

"Listen up, Gar," Victor snapped commandingly. "You stay in there, and you do whatever it takes to keep those two safe. You get me?"

Panic and gratitude mixed in Beast Boy's face. He glanced back into the room, and said, "Yeah. I will."

"We'll be back as soon as we can. Kory?" Vic said.

Starfire grasped the bent edge of the security shutter and, grunting, rolled it back into its housing. The shutter fit poorly with Starfire's knuckle-prints caved into its side, but she wedged it into place.

Concentration smoothed the furrows in Victor's expression. He grasped his arm, closing his eyes. His breathing slowed as the other Titans gathered behind him.

"Kory, Tek, get to work on the door," he said.

Victor's arm bulged, bursting from the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Its dark tones grayed into sleek, smooth alloy. Exhaust vents emerged from the top. His fingers swirled into his palm, which became a glowing blue aperture.

Tek summoned her armor with a blue-white flash. As it settled around her, she looked down at Victor, and said in a tinny voice, "Then what? We have no idea what we're up against. And by the time we get through, Robin could be…"

Her thought was broken by a loud _clang_. Looking up, Tek saw Starfire already at the door. The golden sylph swung with her whole body, driving the full measure of her strength behind her knuckles. The door scoffed and gonged at her first blows, but as she continued, its surface began to buckle.

Opening his eyes, Victor hefted the oversized sonic cannon his arm had become. It took more concentration than he expected to maintain the weapon. Gritting his teeth, he watched Starfire attack the door, and listened to her snarl at the metal in her native tongue.

"I know, kid. So let's go," he said.

* * *

Robin sprinted across the lobby floor, his boots pounding ahead of a rippling wave that tore apart the very ground beneath him. He hurtled the wave, feeling it brush his soles as it shot past him and slammed into the dormant construction paver.

_This is it. This is the one_, he thought.

He shook the thought away, and considered his options. Seven furious villains lay behind him, five of whom he had personally enraged at some point in his career. The surprise bought by his thermate incendiary discs was all but spent. He had mere seconds before the Tyrants got their act together and started coordinating. After that, he would be dead.

The paver was a tempting position. Leaping atop it would give him the high ground, but it would also make him a choice target for ranged fire. He could already hear the sizzle of Blackfire's bolts. Instead, he jumped and caught himself halfway up its side, and pushed off its yellow body into a soaring back flip.

Even upside-down, the battlefield looked no less grim. Jinx had shaken off the flare from his discs first, and pushed her magic through the earth to trip him. When she saw him take to the air, she summoned gouts of fire to her hands. "Watch it!" she snarled, and strafed to one side.

Blackfire's watering eyes caught sight of him, and flashed. Twin beams of violet energy lanced through the air behind Robin, and began tracking toward him at alarming speed.

As he reached into his belt, Robin saw a gaggle of red suits gathered at where he would land. He recognized Billy Numerous from the Titans' files. The duplicator split his selves again and again, forming a mob that grinned at the thought of catching whatever cinders remained of Robin after Jinx and Blackfire finished with him.

"High fly to the infield!" one Billy sang.

"Easy out!" another chimed.

Silver-edged discs flew from Robin's hands. The discs struck ground behind Billy's mob and ruptured into clouds of thick smoke, which ballooned to fill the back half of the lobby. Jinx snuffed her flames to grasp at her throat as the cloud's edge swallowed her. Blackfire's beams wobbled, losing Robin behind a curtain of smoke.

The Billys floundered en masse to in the choking haze. Two heavy boots descended from above and stomped into their midst, driving Billy's selves apart. A metallic _snap_ permeated the cloud, followed by the dull sound of flesh and bone being sundered by something blunt. The last Billy standing saw a long, thin shadow sweep through the haze before it smashed through his visor and knocked him out.

Robin drew his collapsible quarterstaff to his side. He breathed carefully through the filters tucked into his nostrils, and probed the interior of his smokescreen.

The _crunch_ of debris behind him turned him just in time. He brought his quarterstaff up, and then reeled as it snapped against Blackfire's punch. The force of her blow staggered him back.

The smoke made Blackfire a silhouette. Her luminous eyes hung in her shadow, glimmering at him. "Cough, cough," she sneered, and pushed through the haze. "Did you forget? I've flown through nebulae, cutie. Your little toy is useless."

Backpedaling, Robin dropped the shards of his quarterstaff and grasped at his belt, and filled his hand with red fletched darts. He flung the darts at Blackfire as he regained his footing. Blackfire laughed as most of the darts sailed overhead. One of the darts was lucky enough to find her midriff, where it bounced off her silver bodysuit.

Two quick strides brought her to Robin. She belted him with the back of her hand before he could duck. The blow flung him to the ground, where he rolled to minimize the impact. Reaching down, she plucked him up by the front of his tunic with one hand, and lifted him off his feet. A killing stroke glowed in her eyes. "You're adorable. I see what she sees in you. But I doubt your little prick could even get through my skin, let alone Tamaranian armor," she said.

Robin's head bobbed toward hers. He kissed her without warning, grasping her cheeks as his lips ensnared hers. As Blackfire's mouth opened in shock, she felt something slip sharply against her tongue.

Squealing, she threw him off of her, and dragged the back of her hand across her lips. "Ugh! What do yoo dink yoo dooig?" she cried. Then she stopped, shocked by the numbness spreading outward from her mouth at an alarming rate.

Lying on his back, Robin smiled at her. The tip of a red dart hung between his teeth. He spat the dart out and rolled onto his feet.

The world began to spin as the numbing sensation crawled up the roof of her mouth and spread throughout her. She sank to her knees, glaring bloody murder in Robin's general direction. "Muvva fugga," she swore thickly, and collapsed onto her face.

A sudden gust of wind buffeted Robin. He staggered as the smokescreen around him billowed out the broken front of the lobby. As soon as the smoke cleared, the wind stopped, reined by Jinx's crackling hands.

Steel flashed through the clear air in the corner of Robin's eye. He ducked beneath Ravager's sweeping blade and rolled aside. The blade chased after him, joined by its twin in Ravager's fervent charge.

"You must think yourself a real hero, Robin," snarled Ravager. The two-toned steadiness of his helmet made the hatred in his voice that much sharper. "Killing Slade must have been quite the feather in your cap."

It took every ounce of speed in Robin's possession to stay ahead of Ravager's sabers. He tried to remain aware of the other Tyrants circling them, and he tried to reach for his utility belt, but there wasn't time for all three. If he wanted an opening, he would need to make one.

"Keep whining, Wilson," said Robin. "The fact is, I've done a lot worse to people I liked a lot more."

Ravager lashed out with his boot, and then followed his foot in with both sabers. "You murdered my father!" he howled.

The attack left Ravager overextended. As he landed, Robin slid his foot behind Ravager's, and then swept back, pulling Ravager's leg out from under him. As the Tyrant fell, Robin drove his elbow into the side of Ravager's helmet, belting the Tyrant aside.

"There are worse things than dying," Robin said as he drew fresh weapons from his belt.

The birdarangs in his hands exploded into steam. Robin yelped at the heat as he saw Shimmer standing at his left, her hands extended and her face triumphant. He scrambled away from her and felt his back strike a wall of hard armor. Looking up, he found Mammoth's face hanging over him.

Mammoth's grasp nearly encompassed Robin. He lifted Robin off his feet, pinning Robin's arms. Robin struggled, until he saw a pair of ludicrously oversized energy cannons aimed in his face.

Gizmo hung from his spidery stalks, leveling his weaponry at the grasped Teen Wonder. "Don't even think of trying that kung fu junk," barked Gizmo. "I see one ninja-twitch, and I'll blast you good!"

Calmly, Robin said, "And what'll that blast do to Mammoth once it gets through my head?"

Mammoth chortled as he clutched Robin tight. Then his mind processed the thought, and his laughter ceased. "Hey, wait a minute…"

"Wait!" Ravager bellowed. He picked himself up from the paved floor. A large dent marred the side of his helmet, skewing the gaps for his eyes. "Don't kill him yet!"

A collective groan arose from the gathering Tyrants. "Here we go," muttered Jinx.

A Billy duplicate said, "Oh, come on, boss! You ain't gonna do this again, are you?"

"Of course he is," Shimmer sneered. "Here comes the gloating."

The weapons in Gizmo's hands mechamorphed back into his pack. "Let me guess," he said. "You want me to build some kind of big death trap, so the whole city can watch this 'foolish Titan fool perish,' blah, blah, blah."

With crooked steps, Ravager joined them. He ducked out of his broken helmet, revealing a tired, satisfied expression. "No," he said, and met Robin's fractured glare. "I just wanted to see it. Go ahead, Mammoth. Break him."

Stars burst behind Robin's eyes as Mammoth's grasp constricted. He couldn't gasp. He couldn't scream. Bone and muscle bent against Mammoth's strength, groaning at the brink of collapse.

As Robin blacked out, he felt a cool, peaceful sense of serenity blossom amidst his pain and panic. He felt himself about to die. A smile touched his face, too slight for anyone to notice as he let his head fall back.

Ravager watched the Teen Wonder's face flush red with pressure. Glee infected the Tyrant's lips. He grinned, and savored the agony pressed between Mammoth's palms. But his smile vanished when he saw a square shadow slither up from the floor and swallow Mammoth whole. Ravager glanced back. His eyes bugged. "Move!" he bellowed.

The lobby's vault-like security door tumbled through the air. The Tyrants scattered, screaming, as it fell into their midst. Mammoth tossed Robin aside and threw himself out of the way as the door struck the ground where he had stood. A deafening clap of metal resounded as the door plowed into the floor, unleashing an explosion of tile and debris that peppered the landscape.

Robin bounced across the floor, finally landing against a twisted row of lobby chairs. He rolled over, coughing, sucking until his lungs filled again. As his vision cleared, he saw four shapes filling the empty doorframe at the end of the lobby.

"Ravager and the Ravagettes," Victor said. "Why am I not surprised?" He leveled his awkward cannon at the scattered collection of Tyrants in the lobby ruins.

Picking himself up, Ravager said, "Tit for tat, Cyborg. You crash our home, and we trash yours." When he looked up and balked at the sight of Victor. "Wait a minute. What in hell happened to you? Is this some kind of trick?" he shot.

Victor's eyes hardened. "Yeah. Abracadabra," he said.

His cannon belched sonic devastation across the battlefield.

* * *

Grasping the edges of her biobed, Raven screamed. She had no feet, no legs, and no stomach left, just a tide of agony that swelled and barely ebbed before it crashed up her body again. The biobed's stirrups rattled, the straps around her feet creaking against the force of her spasms.

"I can't…I can't…" she sobbed, gasping each time she tried to finish the thought.

Beast Boy wobbled on the stool at the foot of her bed. His hand rested on Raven's leg as he grasped the hem of her medical gown. "Come on, Raven, you're doing great. Just keep breathing—"

She arched with a scream that rattled Sickbay. Cracks zigzagged through the dark LCD screens in the walls, while a fine mist of dust rained from the ceiling. Her lungs spent, Raven collapsed back on her bed, gasping and sobbing while she kicked against her stirrups.

"…that's good. Just like that," Beast Boy said, and patted her leg. He lifted the edge of her gown, and then made a face he hoped never to make again. "Oh, God. Nothing will ever let me un-see this moment," he murmured.

"I can't do this," Raven wheezed, finding breath at last to speak. "I can't do this. Make it stop, Garfield. Make it stop. Make it stop."

Beast Boy stood up to peer over her knees. He squeezed her ankle, and said, "You gotta hold on, Raven. We are, like, moments away from a baby sighting here. I know it. Just stay with me."

"Stop it…" moaned Raven.

"Raven, hey. Hey!" Beast Boy snapped, and squeezed Raven's knee. "Listen to me. Listen!" As her crying quelled, he forced his gaze into hers, and said, "You've put up with too much crap to quit now. This is that bright, shining light at the end of the tunnel. We've been waiting for this, Raven. We've all been waiting for a happy ending. This is it. This is where it finally gets good. So hold on, okay? Stay with me."

Panting, Raven searched Beast Boy's eyes. Through the curtain of sweat and tears, she watched his face for any signs of patronization, of false comforts and empty promises. Through the turmoil inside her, and of the dwindling screech of emotion trying to rend its way out her body, she peered inside of Beast Boy. All she saw, all she heard, and all she sensed from him was a profound belief.

Raven had walked between worlds. She had met all manner of beings, some of which even claimed to be gods. She was a priestess of Azar. In all her life, throughout all her travels, Raven had never felt such faith as she did now in Beast Boy. Like everything she felt in him, it was simple and pure, untainted by doubt. He believed what he said, without question or exaggeration.

A happy ending? Raven couldn't imagine such a thing. But she didn't have to anymore. Through eyes of ether, she saw it in Beast Boy, and for one brief moment, the borrowed thought stole all the pain out of her body. For half a heartbeat, Raven felt free.

And in that fleeting freedom, she heard a haunting, deep laugh.

A sharp breath cut Raven's throat. She arched as the laughter filled her, echoing in her bones. She knew the laugh. It had whispered to her from the moment of her birth. The monks of Azarath had taught her to muffle its influence. Raven had kept it out her whole life, pushing it down at the back of her thoughts.

Without a whisper of warning, the resonant laugh rattled her from the inside. It emanated from within her. And it was pushing its way out of her.

"No," Raven moaned, lashing her head in panic. The walls inside of her fell, unleashing the full wrath of her tumultuous mind. Whispers of her soul-self spread throughout the room, cracking the walls and blowing out monitors and detonating fixtures and shattering biobeds and twisting the metal stood under Beast Boy into a knot.

Beast Boy dropped onto his feet, crouching at the foot of Raven's bed. "It's okay, Raven," he said, and pushed back her gown. "I see something. I think… Oh, man, I think it's the baby's head!"

"No," Raven cried between wracked cries. "No, no, no! Stop it, Garfield!"

"Hang in there. Keep pushing!"

As the laughter reached her head, Raven felt the pain in her loins explode into sheer torture. With her last, ragged ounce of voice, she screamed, "Stop it! You have to stop it!"

From under Raven's gown, Beast Boy shouted, "Come on, Raven, you can do it!"

Raven had to warn him about the laughter pouring into her. Each breath she took became a sobbing scream, leaving her nothing left with which to speak. The contractions forced the child out of her in blinding waves of pain. Pressure mounted in her forehead, focusing into two new eyes that threatened to burst through her skin.

Desperate, she looked anywhere and everywhere for something within reach. She saw her cloak draped over the twisted wreck of the next bed over. Clawing at it, she hooked the blue fabric, and jerked it to her. The cloak's ruby clasp knocked against her chest.

She clutched the clasp in white knuckles and, murmuring a prayer, poured her fractured mind through her hands. The clasp quivered, and then fell, clattering onto the floor, heavy with her final thoughts.

Then, gathering the remaining shreds of her self, Raven focused her will into giving her friends a fighting chance to survive the nightmare to come.

* * *

Jets of tile kicked up from under Tek as she bounced across Sector Prime. Her armor gouged through the floor until she slowed and stopped in the middle of the sprawling floor. Groaning, she collapsed onto her back, letting her helmet gong against the crater of her own making.

"Chin? Not good for blocking," Tek said to the distant skylight. "Good life lesson. Moving on…"

She yelped at the sight of Starfire streaking overhead. The alien powerhouse cradled her own stomach, her beauty marred by pain. Starfire overshot Tek by half a sector before she bounced and tumbled to a halt.

Tek sat up and glanced back at Starfire. She sighed with relief as she caught sight of shallow, steady breath rolling in Starfire's chest. Then she turned back toward the entrance, and cried.

"Yeah!" Mammoth bellowed. His boots cratered the floor in an elephantine sprint aimed straight at Tek. He hurtled at Tek with his fist cocked back, his knuckles poised to drill through her in one blow.

Averting her visor, Tek curled her arms and legs above her. Her body tensed in anticipation.

Three feet above her, Mammoth's punch stopped hard against a wall of blue energy. His face crashed next to his fist against the angled force field, followed instantly by the rest of his body. His eyes rolled up into his skull as his face dragged along the blue field.

Tek winced at the sound. When she didn't feel the impact she expected along with it, she risked a glance up. The force field dissolved at her surprised gasp, allowing Mammoth to collapse onto her.

"Oh, for—! Why can't it do that when I want it to?" Tek snapped, and kicked the insensate Tyrant off of her. Her enormous feet launched Mammoth in an arc that ended ten feet off the ground against the far wall of the Compound.

She sat up, and yelped again when she saw Victor and Bushido coming straight at her. The latter stood braced against the former's back as they skated across the rocky floor on their shoes. Victor's arm had become a large, metallic shell, which he held against a stream of flickering green light erupting from Gizmo's pack cannons.

The green beam shoved them backwards into Tek. She caught them both against her armored chest, and skidded with them until her heels dug far enough into the tile to stop them. Tek brought her plasma repeaters to bear, and bracketed Victor's shell with covering fire. The deadly spray tore apart the far wall of the Compound, and sent Gizmo scrambling for cover.

Victor snarled in frustration while Bushido squeezed out from behind him with a gasp. The metal shell became a flesh and blood arm, snapping back into shape hard enough to stagger Victor. "Of all the days for these morons to show up…"

"Why isn't the security system making stroganoff outta these guys?" Tek asked. "You built guns into every inch of this place. You'd think at least one of 'em would—"

Scowling, Victor stared at his arm until a small black screen arose from its flesh. The screen blinked a string of messages at him. He cursed, and the screen faded back into him. "Something forced a system reboot! Everything in the building is down for the next nine minutes, including security."

A red shape bounced in front of Victor. It flipped once and landed hard on black boots, wearing a grimace and a masked, fractured scowl.

"Then we need to draw them deeper into the building," Robin said, as though Victor had been speaking to him. He straightened with a grunt. New birdarangs snapped into his hands. "If we split up, we can divide their forces. Keep them occupied until security comes back online. Then—"

"No." Victor glanced at Sickbay's door, which waited halfway between where he stood and where the Tyrants regrouped at the entrance. His fists clenched hard as the skin of his hands faded into gunmetal alloy. "They don't get in. Not one more inch."

Robin gritted his teeth. "That isn't tactically sound. We're outnumbered and outmaneuvered."

"It does not matter." Starfire's voice turned Robin's head, as well as those around him. She wove around the craters in the floor, hiding her limp behind a proud, regal air. Standing beside Victor, Starfire said, "He is our leader. This is our home."

Tense silence hung at the end of Starfire's words while Robin gathered his retort. But before he could speak, Tek stammered, "We're not letting them in here, Tim. Uh, Robin. Sir."

"Very stirring," Bushido said, and looked left. "Now I suggest we—"

"Move!" Robin snarled.

Pink energy flooded between the scattering Titans, slashing a long trench into the floor behind them. Pieces of tile peppered Victor as he jumped out of the way. He poured his focus into his arms, molding them into twin sonic cannons.

"Titans Together!" he shouted, and threw waves of blue compression down the cavernous hall.

A wild sonic blast clipped Ravager in the shoulder. He spun onto his knee, barking in pain and clutching his arm. "A little artillery would be nice," he shouted.

Jinx traded her hex for fire, and summoned a column of flame that sprayed from her cupped hands. She sneered back at him, "Your other artillery went down for the count when she got to first base with the bird!"

A roar from behind made Ravager shudder. Mammoth barreled past him and thrust his fists deep into the Compound floor. The giant peeled a wide slab of the floor up and pushed it forward into a barricade, which shook with sonic blasts and starbolts and plasma bolts. Mammoth braced the new wall with his shoulder and flashed a smug grin back at the rest of the Tyrants.

In the brief respite, Ravager looked back and bellowed, "Gizmo!"

Gizmo stood on his tiptoes, digging through the guts of the empty doorframe's controls. A string of almost-curses poured from his mouth before he answered, "There's nothing to hack! The whole stinking building is in some sort of shutdown, or reboot, or something."

"Aw, who cares?" Billy exclaimed. He split, and split again, and harmonized, "We got 'em outnumbered!"

"The math hick is right for once," Shimmer said, crouching next to Mammoth behind the quaking barricade. "We've got the advantage here."

Ravager's head tilted. He listened to the energy blasts hammering against the repurposed floor. Beneath the tumultuous fire, he heard heavy footfalls growing closer. The Titans were charging their position.

"Shimmer's right," Ravager said. "We do have the advantage. They should be falling back, forcing us to compromise our position. But they're coming straight for us."

Jinx shot him a look. "What are you babbling about?"

His eyes widened. "They're trying to force us back outside. They're…protecting something. Something inside…" Ravager stood and drew his sabers with a sharp gesture. "Throw the wall."

"What?" Jinx, Mammoth, and Shimmer cried.

"Do it! Hit them hard, now!" roared Ravager. "Tyrants Terrorize!"

With a groan of disgust, Jinx ran at Mammoth's barricade. She thrust her hands against the rough, torn surface, pushing a pulse of earth magic into the processed stone. The concrete and tile obeyed her command as the barricade broke out of the floor and shot forward, leaving Mammoth to lean against empty air.

The barricade skirted the ground, staying upright as it hurtled at the Titans. Robin and Bushido both jumped and cleared the top edge of the flying wall by inches. Starfire's leap carried her over the wall and high overhead. Victor dove, and felt the edge of the wall clip his bare toes.

Tek's battle cry ended in a squeak an instant before the flying barricade plowed into her. The wall broke in half against her crossed arms, knocking her back in a shower of tile.

Bushido landed on one knee, his sword held outright beside him. He looked up and saw a red offensive line bearing down on him. Three Billys tackled his arm, pinning his sword to the ground, while the rest of the Billys piled onto his chest.

As Mammoth and Shimmer broke to catch Starfire, Gizmo rode his mechanical stalks in a charge at Victor. Tentacles sprouted from Gizmo's pack, sparking at the ends with electricity. "I like the new look, meat bag. It'll be a lot easier to—"

Victor's hands rippled as he shoved himself back to his feet. His arms became jets of white-hot fire, which he focused into two blades. Sweeping the fires up, he sliced cleanly through the stalks to either side of Gizmo, severing the impish Tyrant's supports.

Screaming, Gizmo plummeted between the bracketing fires spraying from Victor's arms. He watched Victor's bare foot bulge as it swung up at him. By the time the foot connected with Gizmo, it had become a thick metal boot.

Reverting his arms, Victor shook the residual heat from his hands, and watched Gizmo tumble through the air. "Damn," he muttered. "Shanked it."

Agony shot through Victor's back, exploding out of his chest in a spray of blood. He staggered, and looked down. The ends of two sabers jutted from his sweatshirt, centered in a growing red stain. His knees struck the floor hard. Only the tension in the blades kept him upright.

Numbly, he reached up, trying to touch the blades, but his hands were too heavy. He gagged, and felt wet warmth spilling over his lips and running down his chin.

"You should have kept all that metal," Ravager whispered in his ear from behind. "It's not like you're any prettier this way."

Ravager kicked Victor off his sabers. The wet, heavy sound Victor's body made when it struck the floor made Ravager giddy. He almost hefted the Titan out of his pooling blood just to drop him and listen for that _thump_ again.

Resting his boot on Victor's shoulder, Ravager leaned down and grinned. "Now, what were you trying to keep me away from, 'No-borg?' "

A living midnight swallowed the security shutter over Sickbay. Darker than any shade of black Ravager could imagine. An explosion, gravely silent, pulsed from within Sickbay, sending a sphere of the darkness out into the remainder of the Compound.

The wave passed through Ravager. He shivered at the touch of the darkness, which reached into him with fingers of ice. The bleeding body under his heel trembled, feeling it too. As the wave moved on, Ravager saw it touch the rest of the battlefield, stopping Titan and Tyrant alike with its chill. Behind the wave rode an anguished scream, which Ravager heard, not with his ears, but in the back of his mind.

Mammoth paused. His fist hung cocked to pound Starfire, pinned under his other hand and bleeding from the mouth. Looking back, he said, "What the hell was that?"

Ravager grinned and pushed off of Victor. "So. It's the sorceress, is it? Let's see what she's up to, shall we? Shimmer! Open that door!"

Robin looked up from Jinx, who gagged in his choke-hold. He threw the Tyrant witch aside and sprinted to intercept Ravager. The edge of his last explosive disc pressed through his glove as he took aim. "No!" he cried.

As Jinx fell, she pushed her pain and rage through her fingertips. The emotional furor sprayed from her in a storm of hex that overtook Robin's charge. His cry became a choked scream as the pink energy engulfed him. The weapon dropped from his hand as he fell, becoming a stiff, sliding plank of convulsing muscle.

The Teen Wonder came to rest in Ravager's path. He stomped on Robin's back, relishing the sensation of something breaking under his heel, and then continued toward the shutter over Sickbay. Shimmer followed, lurking in the corner of his vision. Behind him, Ravager heard Jinx's rasping gasps tailing him.

"How do you like that?" he said, glancing back at the wheezing, prostrate sack that had been Victor. "You Titans always fancied yourselves cleverer than me. And maybe you were. Or maybe you were just luckier. And now it appears luck has turned her fickle eyes elsewhere. And without fortune's favor, what are you left with? A broken base. A bleeding new body. And a treasure that will soon be mine."

He rapped on Sickbay's thick barrier. A faint scream answered him.

Smiling, he said, "Shimmer?"

The pale Tyrant made a show of patting down the pockets of her pants. One need only look at the skintight contour to know that there was nothing but her under that glossy PVC material. "Damn. Must have forgot my key. Guess I'll just do this instead."

As soon as her hand touched it, the metal of the door melted aside, becoming muddied waters that sloshed across the Tyrants' feet. Jinx cringed in disgust and kicked a spray off of each shoe. Ravager, heedless of the water, ducked under the expanding breach in the door, and sidled through with his sabers at the ready.

"Peekab…" His mocking tone drained at the sight greeting him in Sickbay. The sabers fell to his sides, and he lamely finished, "…oo?"

Raven's scream nearly smothered Ravager's entrance, but not enough to baffle Beast Boy. He turned from Raven's bed with a confused look that twisted into rage upon sight of the Tyrants at their door.

"Get out!" Beast Boy snarled. His face twisted further, harder, as his pupils expanded to make his eyes black. The purple and white of his uniform began to vanish, supplanted by the lean, tensed muscle of a predator. His bared teeth leapt out from his mouth, becoming a muzzle that split to bathe Ravager in an inhuman howl.

Fire and wind collided with Beast Boy's expanding chest. The blast of magic flung Beast Boy back against the wall, pounding him through the broken monitor of a biobed. He hung in the wall for a heartbeat before collapsing onto the floor, unconscious.

Ravager gave an appreciative nod to Jinx, who lowered her smoldering hand. He got naked disgust in reply. "Now, this? I wasn't expecting this," Ravager said of the wailing sorceress.

He took a step toward her bed, bracing himself for magical retaliation. Raven continued to pant and scream. She didn't seem aware of the Tyrants' presence, or of anything beyond the demands of her body.

"So what do we do now?" Shimmer asked, flat disgust dripping from the question.

Now Jinx's eyes shone in delight. She pushed past Ravager and stood at the foot of Raven's bed. Raising her voice above Raven's screams, she said, "I think we should take it. I think the little tyke is going to need a real teacher. Someone to show it what real magic is. Don't you think so, bitch?" she asked Raven.

Ravager sheathed his sabers. "Well, I suppose it's only fitting. After all, the poor thing's about to be an orphan," he said.

Jinx ignored him, and threw back Raven's gown. She thrust Raven's legs apart and reached down at the bulbous crown burgeoning from Raven. "Come on, Raven," sneered Jinx. "Give me a push. Give me one last, big push!"

The room drew quiet for a long second as Raven sucked at the air. Her eyes bulged in their sockets, and then disappeared. When they emerged again, all four of them glowed with the color of blood.

She screamed.

Jinx smiled as she watched the baby emerge. A glow spilled from the baby's glistening skin. It danced like fire, and tingled where it shone on Jinx's bare skin. She felt the light shine deeper, playing across the chaos that lived inside of Jinx. It touched her power, searching her with newborn curiosity.

"That's it. Mommy's here," Jinx cooed, her eyes crackling.

The glow intensified. Suddenly, it didn't tingle anymore. It pressed harder, pushing into her. Jinx's smile fell away as she felt the light begin to take from her the very essence it touched. The child's glow sipped at her, slowly at first, but with greater intensity at each passing instant. Its glow became a flare, an anima of light that stole her vision as it tore great pieces out from her essence.

She shuddered, and tried to pull away, but the light kept hold of her. It intensified, turning her whole world red. Her ears filled with laughter, deeper and richer than any she had ever heard.

From somewhere in the great distance, she heard a voice punch through to her, as though shouted through a pinhole in a thick wall. "Nichole!"

Something shoved her out of the path of the red light. She caught sight of a silhouette with close-cropped hair, dented armor, sheathed blades, and terrified eyes that met hers before the end.

The world turned red in a chorus of screams.

**To Be Continued**

* * *

I apologize profusely for the delay. Real life, work (which I separate from real life for very good reasons), and the length of the chapter all conspired against me. Hopefully its sheer magnitude and awe help make up for its tardiness.


	37. Ascendance: Prophecy

* * *

**Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Ascendance**: _Prophecy_

Victor was dying again. He didn't like it any better this time.

Blood pooled underneath him, rippling with each wheezing, rasping, weakening breath he drew. The agony radiating from his chest had dulled, becoming a numb chill that spread into the rest of his body. Copper and bile mingled in his throat, burning and stinking.

This death hurt less than the others. It still hurt, but not nearly so much as his first death three years ago. And it galled him to think that he had died so many times that he had created a pool for comparison. His most recent death had been just the day before, when every cell and circuit in his body had been consumed by repurposed alien technology. That had been sheer torture, if mercifully brief. Being stabbed couldn't compare. But it still hurt. And he was still dying.

Through darkening eyes, Victor saw the empty doorway of Sickbay flare red. Victor distantly remembered the black, chilling wave that had come from Sickbay only a moment before. This light felt different. It tingled under his skin.

Screams twisted through the light, which spread until it touched everything in the hall. Victor listened to the screams, and wondered how they could sound so far away when he was so close. He wanted to act, but his arms and legs still refused to help.

A thought sparked in his sluggish mind, that lump of fat and tissue sitting between his ears. It wasn't fat or tissue. It was a collection of machines, devices so small as to make nanites appear gargantuan by comparison. They arranged themselves to look like atoms, molecules, cells, organs, but they weren't. Victor's body looked human, and acted human, but it wasn't.

That had been the hardest part of his original accident. Looking in the mirror and seeing a face that was only half-his had almost killed him. It had taken him the better part of a year to learn how to function in his new body, and even then, he had never fully accepted it. Being a cyborg had been an affliction to overcome, not a permanent condition. His greatest wish had been to banish the offensive metal in his body.

Yesterday, Victor had done just that. Wish granted. His body looked human. It acted like a body should act. So when some lunatic swordsman shoved two flat sheets of metal through it, his body began to bleed out like any other human body would.

He had no time left to bleed. He could no longer afford the luxury of his humanity. He remained human because he had wanted—needed—to be human more than anything in the world. Now he needed to be more.

_Stop bleeding,_ he told his body.

Vital fluid continued to spurt from his wounds, heedless of his stern command. He felt dizzy, and cold, like he was falling into a glacial pit somewhere where only the red light could reach him. He struggled to concentrate.

_Stop bleeding,_ he said. _You stop that shit right now. People are counting on you. People you love. Now quit gushing and get up._

The blood spurting from his chest may have slowed. He couldn't tell because he couldn't see. He screamed at the darkness, he screamed at the red light, with a voice he no longer had.

_Get up. Get up! You're not even human! You can't bleed! You can't die! You are a big, bad robot wrecking machine, and no wussy poke through the guts is going to stop you. You are supercharged and pissed off about it._

He felt a little less cold.

_You're not a person. You're a Titan._

His chest became a fountain of agony. He clenched his jaw shut, forcing the scream back into his lungs, where it resonated, fueling the shredded tissue inside of him. He focused his thoughts into the wounds.

_Be a Titan._

The world came back to him, bright and loud. His chest throbbed, but it no longer screamed, and it no longer spouted. His arms and legs reported back to him with tingling, tentative readiness. They gathered underneath him, pushing him out of the puddle of his blood. Droplets spattered behind Victor as he wobbled toward Sickbay.

* * *

Something charred and feral peeled itself off of the floor. It snarled, becoming Beast Boy once again.

He opened his newly regenerated eyes to fading red light. Amidst the broken chaos of Sickbay, Shimmer's pale skin stood brightest. She had pressed herself against the far wall of the room, her hands flat beside her. Her mouth shook with horrified murmurings Beast Boy could not hear.

Jinx lay sprawled next to him. She stared up at the foot of Raven's bed. Her eyes pushed out of their sockets as though trying to abandon her to the horrors of what they saw. The witch didn't as much as stir as Beast Boy shambled to his feet. Despite the warning of her eyes, he looked for himself.

A nude figure loomed over Raven's bed. Over six feet tall, his body wore the sculpt of a Greek statue. Scarlet color clung to every inch of him, hairless, save for a flowing mane of hair the color of a fresh winter clearing. Two short, round stubs dotted the top of his forehead, like antennae that had been sanded down and lacquered. Every physical aspect of the creature exuded perfection, save for a single flaw. Upon his right hand, he lacked the tip of his littlest finger, possessing instead a halved, scarred nub.

The red glow shrank back into the figure's four narrowed eyes. He blinked one set, and then the other set stacked above. Wisps of smoke emerged from his lips as they curled into a smile.

In his flawed hand, the red figure held a mummy by the face. The gnarled, chalky corpse wore battered blue armor and sabers sheathed at its back. Its mouth hung open in a silent scream. Its hands dangled from the figure's arm, its bones wrapped around his impressive muscle.

"So much rage," the figure purred, examining the mummy in his grasp. His voice rang low, and glided like velvet pressed against silk. The words reverberated in Beast Boy. He heard the figure's voice, but he also felt it.

Every sense Beast Boy possessed screamed at the red figure's presence. Beast Boy smelled brimstone, and saw aberrant shadows dance in the figure's musculature. He tasted black bile as he gasped when the figure's four eyes turned upon him. Just a look, the barest touch of the figure's eyes, made Beast Boy's skin crawl.

The shapeshifter shrank back from those four burning eyes, and stammered, "What the hell are you?"

A smile spread the figure's lips, revealing a nest of white razors behind them. He said to Beast Boy, "I know your voice. You spoke at great length with my daughter."

"Wh-Where's Grant? What happened to Grant?" Jinx breathed. Her eyes flickered between the figure and the mummy trailing in his grasp.

The figure glanced down, as if Jinx's haunted question reminded him of the corpse he held. He let go. Fleck of paper skin clung to his fingertips as the mummy dropped. It crumpled against the floor, vomiting out the top of the battered armor in a gout of dust. Jinx's pale face whitened as the dust spilled over the tips of her shoes.

Beast Boy bristled as the figure stepped toward him. The smile defiling the figure's face elicited a roar from deep within Beast Boy, one that rang through his innards, and emerged from his fangs in a snarl. His clawed fingers extended, sharper and longer than ever. "Who are you?" Beast Boy demanded. "What did you do with Raven's baby?"

The figure stopped. Bemusement glowed in his eyes. Resting a hand on his sinewy chest, he said, "He stands before you now, mortal. The Child of the Portal and the Priest. My daughter's son."

Portal and Priest. The words rang in Beast Boy, dulling his claws with shock. Memories of a cavern swallowed him whole, transporting him back into that harrowing day beneath Brother Blood's mansion, when he and Raven had fought to stop the coming of the Church's dark, twisted god.

"It's you," he whispered, wide-eyed. "You…You're the guy Dominic tried to call up with his ritual. You're…Raven's son?"

"Lord of Demons, king of a thousand hells, ruler of all I survey." The titles echoed from his lips, the mere sound of it eliciting chills throughout the room. "And now, thanks to my daughter, I shall add this realm to my rule."

Beast Boy's pallid face twisted first with shock, and then with disgust. "Your daughter? You're Raven's freaking dad? Dude, what the fu—!"

Crackling hex blasted the demon, enveloping his chest. The blast threw him off his feet and slammed him into Sickbay's wall. Shimmer screamed and scrambled out of his path as he collapsed onto the floor.

Jinx clambered to her feet, kicking up a small cloud of her ex-boyfriend. Her eyes burned with a scowl centered on the struggling, six-foot newborn. The hex in her hands became roiling air, which radiated cold so intense that it made her breath steam as she snapped, "You son of a bitch! Bring him back! Bring him ba—!"

Her last word ended in a rasp as bands of black ether closed around her throat. The shimmering cold in her hands evaporated at once. Choking, she dug her fingers at the bands, trying to loosen them enough to draw a single breath. The bands refused to budge. They lifted Jinx off her feet, leaving her toes to scrape the floor as she thrashed wildly.

The biobed rustled with motion. The creature that arose from the sheet wore a medical gown and blinked its four sunken, luminous red eyes. Oily black hair framed its blank face. Its slender hand reached for Jinx, squeezing. The black bands at Jinx's throat tightened.

Beast Boy staggered at the sight of the creature on the bed. "Raven…?"

Raven's gaze turned to him. As she stood from the biobed, her medical gown slipped off her shoulders, stealing Beast Boy's breath. No sign of her pregnancy remained, not a crease, not a fold, not an ounce. She was a porcelain goddess, achingly, unnaturally beautiful.

Glowing brands emerged in Raven's ashen skin, written in a language the likes of which Beast Boy had never seen. Like neon tattoos, they clung to her, lining her arms, hugging her breasts, wrapping her stomach and legs, and despoiling her face. The brands glowed red as though they burned. Joined with the light from her eyes, the glow of the brands painted Sickbay and everyone in it to match her son.

The black bands choking Jinx faded, dropping her as Raven's attention fell to Beast Boy. Jinx collapsed into a gagging heap, and curled into a ball.

"Come on, Raven. It's me," he said, and gulped. "It's Gar."

Laughter rang around and within Beast Boy, coming from the far wall. The demon arose from the floor, his head tilted back in rich laughter. The cuts left by Jinx's blast pinched shut before vanishing from his skin. "She knows who you are, mortal. Do you know who she is?"

Hate spilled around Beast Boy's hand, a palpable sensation he could feel pushing against him as he reached for Raven. It spilled from her, that malevolent red light that made his insides scream and pucker. He fought through the light, taking two steps that cost him all but the last of his strength.

He collapsed to one knee beneath the weight of her scowl. Beast Boy could scarcely recognize the hateful creature looming over him. It looked like Raven, a perfect vision of Raven, but Beast Boy's senses screamed at the sheer wrongness of what she had become, like they screamed at the scarlet demon.

Her red glow bent his head toward the floor. Beast Boy reached out, blindly groping for her. By some miracle, he felt thin fingers brush his own, and he grasped them with everything he had left.

"Raven, snap out of it!" he bellowed, and squeezed her hand.

Seconds crawled by, measured by the hummingbird tempo of Beast Boy's heartbeat. As he struggled to breathe, he felt the invisible weight atop him begin to lessen. The muscles in his neck bunched as he lifted his head. Raven's four-tiered glare looked no less hateful than it had a moment before. But he could feel the difference. He smiled at her.

"What the hell is going on?" Victor yelled. He hung against Sickbay's empty doorway, aghast at the demonic presence in the room. His soaked clothes dribbled blood across the tile as he staggered toward the startled red figure at the center. "And who the—"

The instant Victor stepped into Sickbay, Beast Boy's heart split with a sudden stab of fear. He felt the weight return threefold, mashing him back to the floor as Raven turned upon Victor.

Her hand slid out of Beast Boy's grasp. Her four eyes narrowed.

Everyone and everything in Sickbay crumpled beneath a silent explosion of red light. Raven stood at the epicenter, untouched by the splintering biobeds, the shattering screens, or the shards tearing up from the floor. Beast Boy saw the two Tyrants caught in the blast slam up against the wall, the breath crushed from them before they could even scream. Then he felt the light's jackhammer touch, and then the punch of the wall behind him, and the world went black.

As hard as the blast hit the others, they felt a comparative kiss to what hit Victor. Raven collected her light into a battering ram and flung it from her open palm. Her unearthly power pegged Victor out of the doorway and into the air, where he tumbled, unable to cry out. The blow had collapsed his chest and shattered his spine.

The demon remained untouched in the dimming maelstrom. His laughter boomed while the light receded into Raven. "Magnificent," he purred. His hand teased the supple curve of her body. "All these years of hating me and fighting me have made you strong. When I claim this world as my own, you will be my greatest asset, my sharpest sword, my strongest shield."

A cry of outrage shot into Sickbay. The demon looked outside, through his eyes and through Raven's, and saw a slender, golden sylph across the great hall. _Starfire_, his daughter's mind told him. A creature as alien to this world as he was.

"Raven!" Starfire called. The alien's hands alighted with green fire. Her eyes blazed with it. The demon could taste the power of her soul even at such a distance, and it stirred his bottomless hunger.

Behind the alien groaned a large, copper-headed giant. And behind the giant, a multitude of red copies watched, pinning down a wide-eyed mortal with a curious sword. Still other specters haunted the corridor outside, all of them powerful in the demon's otherworldly senses.

Powerful, doubtlessly delicious, but too much for him in his current state. He had but a single soul, drained from the furious mortal in two-toned armor. With only one soul in his festering body of half-flesh, he possessed a fraction of a fraction of his true strength. The strength of his daughter might overcome the fantastic mortals of this realm, but he would not satisfy himself with victory by proxy. He wished to conquer. He wished to consume. He would need strength to do both.

And with that thought came the realization of where he could collect such strength.

The demon smiled, and grasped Raven's shoulders. "Come, daughter. Take us home," he commanded Raven. "We will return for this world soon after."

Raven's eyes flared. A rift appeared behind her, raw and red, boiling with a silent choir. It swallowed Raven and the demon both, and then closed, narrowly avoiding the barrage of green fire that bulleted through Sickbay's doors.

For the second time in as many minutes, Beast Boy awoke to pain and confusion. He fell out of the wall, landing on all fours. The beast living inside of him pulled back his lips, revealing long fangs. A rumble escaped his throat before he remembered who and what he was.

He battered the beast back down and stood. Outside the ruins of Sickbay, he could hear fighting in Sector Prime. Billys screamed as starbolts and birdarangs criss-crossed the floor. But here, the world was quiet.

Beast Boy ignored the Tyrants cowering against the wall. He stared at the black scorch mark at the epicenter of Sickbay's destruction. Beneath the stench of brimstone, and the dust stirring the air, he could still smell a lingering hint of her. Beneath the thing she had become, he could still smell _her_.

Claws ate his hands. Fur swallowed his expanding frame. As he charged on bear paws to join the fight outside, he pushed his concern for Raven aside. He couldn't help her until he found her, but he could help his other friends. And after that…

After that, Beast Boy didn't know what to do. He hoped someone else would. Victor would know what to do. He would lead them through this.

If Raven hadn't killed him first.f

* * *

The world between worlds was dark and small. It was a swirling purple blackness with no sky, and no stars, and no sun to fill it. Its only land was a speck of rock, more an asteroid, laughably small even by the standards of moons. Jagged crags littered the rock's ovoid face.

It was the last place anyone might look for life. It was here that the ancient prophet, Azar, had built his haven.

Azarath hung like a beacon in the void. The city-temple consumed one entire side of the rock, its towers reaching into the void like immaculate ivory fingers. Walkways arched from spire to spire, framing stonework pathways and fragile verdant fields. The architecture wove itself in mysterious patterns, patterns of protection, of mystic defense and obfuscation, weaves that were indiscernible to the scant citizenry living in it.

For one hundred generations, Azarath had stood as safe refuge for all who would escape the encroachment of evil. For one hundred generations, nothing had changed.

Today, a hole opened in the world. It was a small hole punched in the purple blackness. But it made the world bleed. A crimson pall spilled above Azarath, coloring the ivory city with hellish light.

Whispers pulsed through the city's walkways, carried by startled voices spoken from the hoods of rustling cloaks. The whispers became cries as the red light spread to subsume the world around them. The tilled fields and stone squares and temple chambers of Azarath rang with alarm.

One voice remained silent. On a walkway suspended between two of Azarath's uppermost spires, a lone white cloak knelt to the ivory stone, its hood turned up to the heart of the red maelstrom. The hood fell back, revealing pale human features slackened with horror. Iron gray hair framed her weathered loveliness. She heard others around her fall to their hands and knees as they prayed for Azar's guidance.

The woman was the mother of their end. She had fled to Azarath long ago, leaving behind her old life and its mistakes to live as a refugee. Her old life on Earth felt more like a distant dream than a memory. She couldn't even recall her name there. Here, she was called Arella.

"Raven, no…" Arella murmured.

Her heart seized when a haunting, basso laugh shook the city. Ancient masonry loosed stone to rain down on Azarath's terrified masses. Screams echoed from everywhere, barely audible above the laughter.

"**And so Azar's meddlesome defiance ends.**" Arella felt the voice rumble inside of her. It resonated through the walkway beneath her knees. "**After three millennia, his power and wisdom has dwindled to this sad collection of morsels.**"

A comet fell from the red whorls, licking a long black tongue across the world. It blazed into the heart of the city and stopped in midair. Dark flames spread from the comet, unleashing a cold wind that scraped all of Azarath raw.

Her cloak billowing in the cold, Arella raised her arms to the gale, squinting through tears at the dissipating flames. Two bodies revealed themselves at the core of the evaporating comet. With eight eyes between them, the floating, naked figures glared down upon gleaming Azarath. As their glare swept up to the walkways, Arella gasped in recognition of the pair.

"**No longer can you hide. No longer can you fight,**" Trigon boomed from within the shelter of Raven's soul-fire. "**Now and forever, at long last, Azar's peoples belong to me!**"

Trigon grasped his daughter's bare shoulders. His will flooded through Raven, blazing brightest of all in her predatory stare. He had only a single soul's power within him, hardly a fraction of his former glory. But he had Raven, body and soul. He needed nothing else.

Red light consumed the airborne pair. Arella watched as the monster that had ravished her a lifetime ago grasped their daughter. She watched their daughter fill with his hate. Arella's tears blurred the rest, but she already knew what would come to pass.

From every corner of the city, the screaming began. Individual at first, screams of panic, and then of pain. They came at random, and in greater waves. A pair of lovers in the gardens. Three students in the temple. A class, meditating beneath Azar's statue. Azarath became a song, its ancient walls alighting with the chorus of its people's ends.

Around her, Arella saw other cloaks rooted to the stone. They convulsed in agony, emptying themselves in one perfect cry of pain and loss. One by one, their convulsions stopped. White cloaks became gray shells. Screaming faces became silent masks. Flesh became stone.

From these statues arose wisps of iridescence. Beautiful colors the likes of which Arella could never imagine breathed from the rocky skin of those around her. The light rose into the air, where it swirled in a slow storm around the burning core of the city.

Souls. Raven culled the very souls from Azarath, leaving their vessels as stones. The sight made Arella weep anew for its beauty, and for its terrible source.

The inner ring of the color storm slipped into Raven's grasp. Her knurled fingers pulled the color to her chest. As the light broke through her ashen skin, she became a living siphon. Iridescence drained from all over the tiny realm into Raven, filling her with a glow that blotted out her fragile body.

Trigon drank through Raven's shoulders. The souls of Azarath filtered through his daughter and entered him as purified embers of the divine. As he laughed, and fed, his body began to swell. His flesh crackled and ballooned.

"**Pray!**" Trigon crowed. "**Pray to your prophet as you fuel my glorious return, mortals! Let me hear you pray to Azar!**"

A fist of fire clenched in Arella's stomach. The pain doubled her over as the fire blossomed outward. Grayness spread through her skin where the heat escaped in vibrant bursts of light.

Arella wept through eyes of stone. With her last breath, she sobbed for her daughter. Her last thoughts reached for the mindless husk in Trigon's clutches. _Remember, darling Rachel_, Arella begged. _Only the greatest sacrifice will defeat him now._

_But the sacrifice will not be yours to make._

* * *

Tek hurled a wadded ball of Billys into the holding cell. The red wad broke apart against the back wall, spilling and grunting across the one short bench bed bolted to the floor. Her armored hand cracked the control panel next to the cell as she locked the cell.

"Y'know," she griped tinnily to the trio of cells in Lockdown, "you guys are lucky that we're the good guys. If we were bad guys, like you jerks, you'd probably be dead. Or at least in dirtier cells. Do we have dirtier cells? Like, dungeon-filthy. With rats. Big rats."

Starfire dragged Mammoth into the far cell by his heel. Gizmo already sat on the cell's bench, arms crossed, with daggers pouring from his eyes in the Titan's direction. Without his tech pack, dagger glares were all the hostility he dared to muster. As Starfire activated their cell, she returned Gizmo's look in kind.

"…the hell kind of good guys are you?" Behind the electrified bars and the shimmering force field of the opposite cell, wedged in the corner of the cramped space, Shimmer hid behind her knees. Neither Starfire nor Tek had seen her wide eyes blink since hauling her to Lockdown. "That purple-haired bitch, she… What the hell came out of her?"

"Hey!" Tek snapped, and stomped up to Shimmer's cell bars. "You shut up about Raven! You're the ones who—"

"You don't know, do you?" Shimmer demanded. "You don't have a clue! That…That thing came out of her, and he…he…" She choked at the memory of the red demon in Sickbay. Gagging, she scrambled for the cold, seatless toilet installed in the cell, and emptied her stomach into its bowl. Tek watched her wretch, and winced behind her visor in unwanted empathy.

"He killed Grant."

Jinx's whisper shook Tek. The Tyrant witch hadn't spoken since the Titans had taken her from Sickbay's ruins. She hadn't fought, or struggled, or even moved. Starfire had carried her all the way to her cell. She sat now on the bench, listing to one side, her eyes empty and wandering.

Eyes cast to the floor, Jinx wove her fingers into knots, and murmured, "He was going to get me. He came out of her in that light…that light, it was so bright, it burned, and I couldn't see. But I could feel him. And then Grant…"

Tek's hand clanged as she made a fist. "Shut up!" she bellowed. "Raven didn't… She wouldn't… This is your fault! You did…something!"

"Grant pushed me," said Jinx. Tek's volume couldn't break the witch from her reverie. "He pushed me out of the way, and that thing got him. It grabbed him, and it…and it…"

"You did this," Tek thundered. "You did something to make that whatever-it-was appear. He's the one that hurt Vic and Gar, right before he kidnapped Raven! Right, Kory?"

When Tek's visor swiveled upon Starfire, the golden sylph's face drew taut. Tek hadn't seen the confluence of events in Sickbay. Starfire had only seen the very end, when Raven had destroyed Sickbay before vanishing into hellish light.

Starfire's hesitation sapped the strength from Tek's insistence. "Kory? You don't think—?"

"Of course not. Absolutely not," Starfire said quickly. But her tone said otherwise.

Tek swallowed, and turned back to the cells. Her helmet hid her uncertainty. "I'm going to go…I don't know, sweep the perimeter. Make sure we got all you losers. Oh, and these cells? Yeah, they're hooked up to about fifteen different kinds of backup power, and they have stun blasters and knockout gas and all kinds of hurty-stingy ways of keeping you in here. So please, feel free to go nuts and try to break out."

She stomped out of Lockdown. Halfway down the corridor back to Sector Prime, her armor broke into a flurry of parts that flashed back into her. She dropped to the floor at the edge of the sprawling hallway and leaned against the corner.

The far end looked like another building entirely. As Tek walked the length of the sector, she counted the scorch marks mottling her home. The closer she drew to the entrance, the more numerous the battle's scars became.

A red-tinged crater stopped her cold. Tek's toes hung over the edge of the hole, more a furrow that had dug through the floor and smashed a divot into the wall. She stared into the crater, tracing the cracks in the tile. Dried blood glistened in the cracks, making the floor into a network of blackish veins.

An image flashed before her, of Victor strewn in the crater of his own making, his body gushing itself into the cracks. She closed her eyes hard, as though to squeeze the memory out of them. The image remained.

_Raven,_ he had said, choking on blood as he had answered Tek's hysterical question. _Raven did this._

Tek stared into the crater, reeling in statuesque silence. Victor had fixed himself, or willed himself better, and had vanished. She hadn't seen Beast Boy, Robin, or Bushido since mopping up the remaining and unresisting Tyrants. In the space of an hour, the Compound had gone from a joyous home to a chaotic battlefield. Now it felt empty and violated.

"What the hell is going on?" she said to the empty crater. "Where are you, Raven? What happened to you?"

"She's gone off to end the world, no doubt."

Turning with a start, Tek found Bushido crossing the length of Sector Prime with a long stride that bordered on running. His sheathed katana bounced against his leg. A duffel bag hung draped over his shoulder by its nylon cord, bulging with the unknown. Bushido lugged his heavy bag past Tek without pause or comment.

"Resolved themselves? What are you talking about?" Tek called, and chased after him. "Wait! Ryuko!"

"Raven has succumbed to her true nature. Or risen to it. I don't know, but the result is the same. And she has invited a demon lord into our realm. It's over," he said without looking back.

"Demon…? What the hell are you…? Wait. What's in that bag?" She caught up to him and matched his gait with a slow jog.

His knuckles whitened around the bag's cord. "My possessions. I am leaving. I suggest you do the same posthaste."

The revelation stopped her dead in his wake. "Leaving?" she exploded.

"You sound like an echo," he said.

Tek sprinted ahead of him. She began wheeling backwards, trying to stop him with outstretched arms and stormy eyes. "You can't just leave!" she shot.

"On the contrary," he said. "If you observe closely in the next few minutes, you'll see I'm quite capable of leaving. In fact, I think you'll find I excel at it."

She stopped suddenly. Bushido bounced off her hands as she struck him straight-armed in the chest. "You can't leave," she said, her voice firm. "We need you. For crying out loud, Ry, you're a Titan!"

His bag swung forward without warning. Tek jumped back with a squeak as it thumped the floor in front of her. She looked up, and felt her courage shrink back from the twisted red rage permeating Bushido's face. To see such powerful feeling in his smooth, peaceful features alarmed Tek.

"I am not a Titan," he spat at her. "I never was a Titan, nor will I ever be a Titan. Now stand aside!"

When he bent to pick up his duffel, Tek's foot sank into its lumpy folds, pinning it to the floor. He met her pointed stare with a furious look.

"You're one of us," Tek said, and folded her arms across her willowy chest. "You don't get to run away just because you're afraid of some imaginary demon thing."

"Imaginary? You foolish, ignorant, witless, mewling little girl!" Bushido fumed. "You have no idea—!" His rage choked him, forcing him to stop, and breathe. A fraction of the redness in his face drained as his shoulders rose and fell.

Tek trembled. Glassy tears waited in her eyes, held in check by the thinnest of wills. But she kept her foot on his bag, and said, "Ryuko, stop. You can't leave when everybody's counting on us."

It was several seconds more before Bushido found control of his voice again. His eyes narrowed into scalpels as he said, "You honestly believe that, don't you? You really think you and this sad circus of yours is doing this city any good. Tell me, Tek," he said, infusing her name with contemptuous emphasis, "How much of this good you do is necessitated by your simply being here?"

Confusion broke through her quivering mask. "I don't understand…"

"Slade held a personal vendetta against the Titans. It passed to his son, who gathered a whole team of malefactors to carry on the grudge. Control Freak exists largely to do you all personal harm, and for no other reason. The Puppet King sought to control you."

"Puppet-What?" Tek said.

"How many of your enemies would disappear if there were no Titans?" Bushido demanded. Tek had no answer, leaving him to smirk. "You're no heroes. You're the other half of the coin, flipping at your so-called 'villainous' counterparts, waging private wars across the city. And who should suffer the most, but the very people you claim to protect? If you cared one whit for them, you would disband this ridiculous endeavor and isolate your wars and yourselves from real people."

His venomous tone stole a tear from her eye. It trickled down her cheek, alone. She blinked back the others, and fought the losing battle to keep control of her voice. "So why were you ever here?" she asked.

The sword left its sheath without a sound, flashing into his hand. He held it between them, its blade flat to them both, reflecting their respective resolves. "Because I can't hear them anymore," he said. "Because they have abandoned me, and I foolishly believed you lot could help return them to me."

Again, Tek whispered, "I don't understand."

"The sword has refused my prayers since my defeat in Titans Tower," Bushido spat. "My failure robbed me of my honor, and silenced my ancestors. I sought to reclaim both by returning to the source of my failure. Time and again, I thought my efforts wasted, but I continued on with your ridiculous games, because I believed, because I hoped.

"But I was wrong," he hissed, and replaced the sword in its sheath. "I was wrong, and I have wasted my time here. And now, through some un-miracle of fate, you fools have actually stumbled upon a genuine threat. So it is far past time for me to leave."

He yanked his duffel out from under Tek's foot, and then circled past her as she stumbled backwards.

Tek crunched after him through the ruins of the lobby, and stumbled over Blackfire's insensate body. "Well, fine!" she snapped, and kicked off of Blackfire. "If we're so helpless and doomed against this demon monster whoosits, why don't you stay and help us? We're your friends!"

"I have no friends," he said, and slung the bag over his back.

"I'm your friend!"

He edged past the dormant paver's massive front roller, angling himself out of the lobby, when he felt his bag tug at him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Tek grasping the bulbous end of his duffel, her heels skittering through the fallen debris.

"You have no idea what you're up against," Bushido told her. "This is no 'villain' to be punched, or blasted, or cuffed. This is a demon lord. At his full power, he will unmake reality with his mere presence. I refuse to throw my life away for anyone."

"I'm your friend," Tek insisted weakly.

"Let me go," he said.

"I'm your friend!" she sobbed. Her tears fell freely as her fingers dug into the duffel's sides. "You don't get to decide that! I do! Maybe I am all that horrible stuff you called me, but I'm still your friend. And I know you're my friend, just like I know you're a Titan. You didn't fake that!"

He shook his head. "You're embarrassing both of us. Let me go."

"Don't do this," she begged him. "You know we have to stand together. Don't leave."

Bushido watched her, waiting for her to break under the force of his disdain. She simpered like a child, sniffling, weeping, and her lower lip quivered, slick with tears. But her hands remained steadfast around his bag. She didn't pull him back. But she wouldn't let him go.

He pulled the bag gently from her grasp. Her fingernails whirred against the fabric of the duffel. "Beheading or impaling the heart. This is the only way to kill a demon."

Tek stared at him with glistening eyes. "That's how we beat it?"

"That's how you beat Raven," Bushido said. "To survive the coming of a demon lord, you will need providence and faith. I suggest you start praying."

He slipped through the gaping breach in the lobby. Tek watched him cross the ruinous construction zone and disappear into an ambivalent stream of foot traffic on the far sidewalk. He looked back only once, not quite meeting her wounded gaze.

* * *

Victor lifted his face into the shower's spray. Eyes closed, he lost himself in the sensation of the scouring water as it struck his forehead and traced warm patterns down from his shoulders. The red blood clouding around the drain at his feet had long since disappeared.

Raven's blast had all but torn him to pieces. It had taken him agonizing, endless minutes to reshape his organs and bones back into place. He had hung in Tek's armored arms like a child, just struggling to breathe while his subatomic machines reorganized themselves.

He was useless. After ten minutes under the scalding water, as he scrubbed, and tried to come up with a more diplomatic, more tactful, more tactical way of putting the dour notion, he had given up.

It led him to an equally miserable decision. He knew what he had to do to make everything right. He just hoped he could live with himself afterward.

A long sigh blew through his lips, spraying droplets through the shower's stream. He focused on the sensation of the water, the smell of the steam, and the sound of the shower echoing in the empty bathroom. His body ached, and burned where the sabers had pierced him. His father had given the last years of his life to make Victor normal again. It seemed disrespectful not to savor his last moment of being human.

Shutting off the water, he stepped from the shower stall, drizzling across the tile as he walked to the door. The door control, like every panel in the Compound, had a small connective port in the corner, in case he needed hard access to the base's systems. With a series of deep breaths, he managed to transform his finger into a data jack, which he slipped into the port.

Stark, precise thoughts began spilling into his head, none of them his. His brain adjusted to the data flow until a chipper feminine voice filled his ears.

_Good morning, Cyborg_, Sarah transmitted to him. _Primary systems are still down. The cause remains unknown, although the unidentified energy wave that originated in Sickbay is currently my best working theory. Estimated time to primary systems' reactivation is currently unavailable._

Victor started to interrupt her, but then realized that she was done. Her subvocalized speech finished faster than he could think. "Okay," he said. "Keep at it. Prioritize security systems and main power. And I have a new program I want you to create and download."

_Acknowledged. Please specify program type, function, and destination._

His jaw clenched. "Duplicate all operational management subroutines on-file, append them to one of your clones, and download the whole thing into me."

There was a pause before Sarah chirped, _Please clarify your request._

"I need an operating system," Victor said to the voice in his head. "This attonite transformation trick of mine takes a lot of concentration to do it manually. If I get surprised or distracted in the middle of a fight, I can't afford to revert to my handsome, fleshy self. Somebody needs to stay inside my head to tell the attonites to keep doing what they're doing no matter how scatterbrained I get.

"That's going to be you. You download into the attonites. Into me. You'll control the form they take, responding exclusively to spoken or conscious input, and ignoring all unconscious input pending my approval. Do you understand?"

_Yes. Thank you for the clarification,_ she replied.

Then, _Request denied._

He blinked. In all the time since the SARAH Sim had gone online, he couldn't recall the program ever denying him anything. "Sorry, but did you just tell me 'no?' "

_Correct. I am unable to comply with your request, as it represents a significant risk to the user. My programming prohibits me from allowing harm to come to any user, whether through action or inaction._

"Don't you Asimov me, young lady. Clarify," he said.

_Cyborg is attempting to incorporate the SARAH program into himself to manage his body functions pertaining to a new, unknown, transitive technology. Data and program retention in this untested medium cannot be guaranteed. _

Victor rolled his eyes. "Yes, there are some risks. But that doesn't mean you need to—"

_Cyborg is attempting to incorporate the SARAH program into himself._ The thought, Sarah's, startled him silent. Sarah had never interrupted him before either. _Once the SARAH program is downloaded into his mind, the program will become integrated into Cyborg's existing software. The program will be subject to the new hardware's unique capabilities, including sentience. Overall program corruption due to unintended sentience would pose a significant risk. The outcome would be impossible to predict._

He remained silent, staring down at the control panel where his finger disappeared into the port. Sarah had never referred to him in the third person when speaking to him before. Three firsts in one conversation made him realize her actual reason for refusing him. "Corruption. You mean me, don't you?" he asked. "You climb inside my head, and suddenly you're not just a computer anymore. You'd be part of a living, breathing person, free will and all. You're afraid of affecting my thoughts, or my personality."

_Cyborg is the creator,_ Sarah thought firmly. _The SARAH program cannot be responsible for corrupting Cyborg's original program, regardless of her intent. Coupled with the unknown factor of sentience, the SARAH program's influence on other programs present in the same system are impossible to predict._

Victor sank down against the wall, sitting cross-legged. His arm snaked up across his chest to keep his finger in the data port. "Sarah," he said, and sighed, "I'm a wreck. I'm no use to anybody like this. I proved that today…

"I almost died today." He let the thought stew between the two of them. The painful memory nearly undid his concentration and the connection, until he forced his finger to remain a data jack. "I keep trying to be the big, dumb hero that I was, which makes me a liability. And my friends can't afford any more liabilities. We already lost Raven. Maybe worse. I can't let them down."

_Cyborg will not lose._

Her certainty drew a single laugh out of him. "I'm not Cyborg anymore, Sarah," he said. "And I can't be Victor Stone anymore, either. The Titans need more. Raven needs more, if we're going to save her from…whatever. And the only way I'm going into a fight is if I have you watching my back."

Sarah did not answer at once. He could feel her thoughts, terabytes of information swirling through the processors in the mainframe upstairs.

"If I have to have anyone inside my head," he told her, smiling, "I pick you, Sarah. You can do this. It'll be just like managing another piece of hardware. Like a new toaster, only it walks and talks, and it has less impulse control."

_I require clarification,_ Sarah replied. _Why do you enter new input to alter my rendering? You could simply override my refusal to comply._

Victor stood again, careful of his connected finger. "Yeah, I could. But I don't want to. If you're gonna be my partner, I want you on board from the start. What do you say? Are you in?"

There was another pause. Then Sarah transmitted, _New input processed. Request refusal reversed: processing request now._

_Downloading._Throwing her unconscious sister into Lockdown had been more satisfying than Starfire cared to admit. But she had no time to enjoy petty revenge. Tek's discovery of another Tyrant on their doorstep meant there could be others. And the Compound's dead electronics meant they had to search the old fashioned way.

* * *

She circled the Compound's grounds at a light jog. Apart from the flattened lobby, the outside of the base appeared normal. Traffic hummed on the street. People walked along the opposite side of the hedge wall, laughing and talking. Birdsongs drifted from trees as she passed, their sources hidden in the leaves. The light breeze stirred her hair, chasing long strands across her face.

Her eyes blazed at the normalcy around her. She wanted to burn down the trees, and hurl cars through buildings, and drive the people away from the Compound, until the outside world reflected the mess waiting for her inside. It felt as though the world hadn't noticed the Titans' problems at all, and was continuing on merrily without them. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. But it was familiar.

The lobby crunched underfoot as she finished her sweep. "The exterior is clear," she said into her communicator. "I am returning to Ops."

"_Roof's clear,_" Tek replied tiredly through the device. "_We might actually be out of bad guys for the moment. I'll see you downstairs._"

As she clipped the communicator at her waist, Starfire heard a pained grunt echo out of Sickbay's half-collapsed entryway. Tensing, Starfire doubled back, slinking along the wall. She filled her hand with a starbolt and jumped into the doorway.

Green light splayed across Robin's surprised look. His tunic hung from the end of a smashed biobed. A roll of athletic tape dangled from his chest, where half of it had been wrapped around his ribs. His arms rose in a defensive gesture on reflex, only to draw a twinge to his face and another grunt through his nose.

The starbolt faded from her hand. "Robin," she said. The imagined threat had passed, but her heartbeat still filled her ears. "I…did not know that you…"

He took up the tape roll again. "Didn't mean to scare you," Robin said, and dragged the tape in another layer around his chest. His cracked stare strayed back to the floor.

"I was not scared," she said, and shied back from the doorway. "I just…did not expect to see you here."

As he swung the tape around his back, his grimace became a gasp. His whole body seized with pain as he dropped the tape, letting it swing from his side. "I didn't have much choice. Cracked a rib back in the fight when Slade Lite wiped his shoes on me. It took me a while just to dig out some tape. Don't have high hopes on getting anything better operational in here before…"

Robin trailed off with a sigh, leaning heavily on the wall. His eyes closed as he fought the pain radiating from his back. His breathing slowed, and his chin dipped to his chest. Then he felt the weight of the tape roll disappear, and he opened his eyes.

"No," Starfire explained as she straightened the tape on his chest, and gently drew another layer around his ribs. "I mean, I did not expect to see you still in the Compound."

He hissed in pain as he drew his arms up out of the way of her hands. "You don't need to—"

"You need help," she told him.

His brow furrowed. "I don't want your help," he retorted.

She looked up. "But you need it."

Robin turned away in disgusted defeat, letting Starfire wrap his chest from behind. He did everything he could to keep his mind off the light, brushing touch of her hands as they layered the tape around him. "Fine," he said snidely. "Just don't blame me if I trigger another biological 'need.' "

He felt her hands pause at his back. The tape roll fell silent.

The moment they left his mouth, he knew the words had been a mistake. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"You are not," she noted. "I would not expect you to be. I hurt you this morning. It is only natural to reply in kind."

The tape resumed, guided by her hands. Her arms brushed his sides whenever she brought the tape around the front of his chest. The scent of her hair maddened him as stray locks teased the small of his back. "I didn't want to hurt you," he said.

She stopped again. Robin stiffened as her touch brushed his skin at the edge of the bandaging, just to the left of his spine. Her fingertip traced the circular edge of the white scar on his back. The sensation made him look down to the scar's twin, which peeked out the top of the wrappings over his chest.

"All we seem to do is hurt each other," Starfire murmured. Her fingers left the scar, and instead patted down the loose end of the tape. Then she stepped back, setting the tape aside, and started for the door.

As she tried to circle around him, Robin thrust out his arms to block her. He turned, and insisted, "I don't want to hurt you! God, Kory, why do you think I stayed away for so long?"

Her eyes hardened into sparkling emeralds. Folding her arms, she said, "I rarely know why you do what you do. You insist on remaining a mystery to everyone, even those who care for you."

"A mystery?" Robin shot. "Are you kidding me? You're seriously going to stand there and pretend like everything I did when I lost control didn't happen."

Starfire's dotted brows dropped into a scowl. "That? That is the reason you abandoned us? Because of what you did when you were the Red Robin?" she demanded.

"Yes! Why else would I leave?" Robin exploded, throwing out his hands.

"Well, that is a stupid reason for leaving!" Starfire yelled back, her scowl glimmering in the dark room. "And you are a fool for thinking that we would resent you for your actions! You are a garfling fool for ever believing that I could resent you for something that was not your fault!"

"Not my fault?" Robin broke her gaze with a frustrated laugh.

"Yes!" she insisted loudly, planting her hands on her hips. "X'Hal, Tim! I am not stupid! I know what the symbiote did to you. I know that what you did, and what you said, was not—!"

"I meant all of it!" Robin bellowed. His voice filled Sickbay. It spilled out into Sector Prime, where it bounced off the walls until it became a shrill, muddied sound that haunted the entire Compound.

In the wake of his words, Robin crushed his eyes shut. The cracked lenses in his mask finally broke under the strain. Flakes of white plastic rained from his face. The deep, dark wells behind the shredding lenses glistened.

"I meant it," he said. "What I did, what I said, I… The alien didn't control me. It made me angry, and it made me strong, but it wasn't telling me what to do. Something inside of me meant those things I said. Some part of me…"

Starfire's body tensed. She lifted her chin, and clenched her fists. Even still, her lips trembled as she asked, "Do you hate me?"

"No!" he said, and then, "I…I don't know. I don't…"

In a faltering whisper, Starfire asked, "Did you love me?"

The question froze him. Robin stared, trapped in her expectant gaze. Then he sagged. His hands rose to his face. When they dropped again, his mask hung between limp fingers.

"The first time I put on this costume, it was for revenge," he said, his face bowed to the floor. "Two-Face killed my dad. He was a son of a bitch, but he was my dad, and Two-Face just left him floating in a river like he was nothing. And I got so angry. Like Two-Face really was calling my dad a nothing. Like that made me a nothing.

"So I put this on," he said, and flapped the empty mask. "And I went after him. And when I was hitting him, even though I felt sad, and furious, something…some little corner of me liked it. It liked making him hurt. At the time, I thought it was just retribution. Justice.

"We put Two-Face away. But I kept going. Batman was the fastest road to every freak and whack-job in Gotham. Every time some deformed, deranged lunatic popped up to hurt people, I ran in to put them down. And every fight, I told myself it was for justice. That it was always somebody who deserved to hurt.

"It went on like that for years." The rush of memories shut Robin's eyes. "As time went on, I spent more and more time in the suit, out on patrol, or taking criminals down solo. Started cutting class just to wear the tights. Sometimes I'd go days without being Tim Drake. Robin mattered. Tim didn't make a difference, but Robin did. And it felt so good just making a difference, knowing that I finally mattered…

"But there was more to it. I liked the thrill. The adrenaline. I liked hurting people who deserved it. It made me feel…

"Righteous," Starfire murmured.

He nodded. "I think Bruce started to notice. He tried to keep me out. He wanted me to be Tim first and Robin second, so he took away the costume and the gear, and he forced me back into school."

Starfire glanced at the tunic hanging next to him. "But you would not quit."

A humorless laugh flared his nostrils. "I got my GED the next week. Then I threw it in his face, stole the costume, and ran away. A month later, I came to California, and…"

He looked up at last. "It's been nothing but fighting since then. And when the alien pumped me up, I could fight even harder. It's all I was. It's the only thing that made me feel anything.

"But when you and I…" His eyes welled. "You made me look under the mask. You wanted more, and I looked, and…there wasn't anything there. I tried to be someone else for you. After I left, I tried to stop being Robin and be someone else instead. But it didn't work. I couldn't. There was nothing left except that dark little voice that likes to hurt. And you didn't want Robin, you couldn't be with Robin. How could I come back if…"

Starfire felt her own eyes burn and blur. She stepped forward, her hand outstretched. "Tim, that is not—"

He shrank from her touch. "This morning, I thought…I thought maybe you…" He choked again, and twisted his head to the side. "I thought maybe you saw something worthwhile. Something you wanted. But last night didn't mean anything, did it?"

Her silence was deafening.

"You were right all along," he said, and mopped his eyes with his gloves. "Robin really is a nothing. And Tim Drake is just a ghost."

With a sharp gesture, he affixed the empty domino back into place. The black cloth was no longer necessary. His face had hardened into a mask of its own.

"And I need to get back to work," he said. Jerking his tunic from the table, Robin left Sickbay without another word. His footsteps echoed down Sector Prime.

Starfire watched the empty doorway and listened to his presence fade from the hall. Like Robin, her features had calcified into something hard and terrible. It wasn't until her communicator chirped nine notes at her that she moved again.

"Yes?" she said into to the communicator, and heard several other voices echo the same over the open channel.

"_Meeting in Ops. Five minutes._" Victor's voice emerged from the device in a commanding snap. He sounded worlds apart from the groaning, vulnerable wet mass they had peeled up from the floor less than an hour before.

Starfire heard other Titans answering through the channel. She echoed her compliance, and snapped the communicator shut. Taking a deep breath, she strode out the door, wearing a confidence in her step that she didn't feel.

In the abandoned Sickbay, a soft rustling of cloth and debris broke the new quiet. Half-buried under the collapsed biobed with stirrups, a blue cloth stirred. A tiny, bewhiskered green nose poked out from under the cloth to test the air. Beady eyes followed the nose out, with mousy ears emerging soon after.

Beast Boy grew out of his field mouse skin, crouching on his haunches as he glimpsed through Sickbay's doors. His senses stretched into the hallway, and found nothing. Then he tugged the blue cloth free from under the biobed and stood, dragging it behind him.

"Sheesh," he said to the dusty blue fabric. "Can you believe those two? 'I'm so dark and moody.' 'It was all the hormones.' 'We keep blasting each other's feelings.' Am I right? I'm so glad we never wound up like them…"

Debris shook loose from the blue cloak as he bunched it in his fists. The cloak's heavy clasp swung down by Beast Boy's knees. A hairline crack ran through the clasp, marring the silhouetted blackbird trapped in the gem.

He lifted the cloak, letting the clasp swing back and forth. "We could've wound up like them. If I had told you how I…? I mean, it's not totally crazy, is it?" he said.

The cloak-and-clasp pendulum swung past his nose in reply. The cracked bird stared back at him with a single red eye.

"I know it wasn't you kicking my ass back there. No way. And I'm gonna get you back. I just…I need some help," he told the cloak. "Gimmie a sign, or a clue, or something. What happened back there? What did that red guy do to you?"

The clasp bobbed at the bottom of the blue fabric. His arm grew tired, making the cloak tremble as he held it aloft. Sighing, he tilted his head forward, letting the clasp bounce against his forehead as he lowered the cloak.

Raven's face filled his eyes. Her features shone, blindingly white and indistinct. "_I hope—_" she said in a faint voice.

Beast Boy yelped as the clasp and cloak pooled at his feet. Staggering backwards, he pawed at his face, trying to rub the stars out of his vision.

When his eyes worked again, he bounced them from corner to corner, searching for the white apparation. Sickbay remained achingly empty. Her ghostly words rang in his ears as a memory, and her scent teased him from the cloak on the floor, but nothing else.

Beast Boy groaned, and rubbed his face again. "I am too pretty to be going crazy," he decided, and chalked the apparation up to wishful hysteria. Bending down, he scooped up the cloak by its clasp.

Raven's face appeared again, this time in the palm of his hand. Her luminous, miniaturized head hovered above the clasp, its expression deathly somber. "_I—_" she began again.

He jerked back again, and watched the clasp drop back into the folds of the cloak. The large gem settled with its blackbird glaring up at him expectantly.

Craning his whole body, he picked up the clasp and held it in his fingertips as far from himself as he could. This time, when Raven's ghostly head reappeared above the clasp, he did not flinch.

"_I hope this message reaches you. I don't have a lot of time._" the phantasmal head told him.

* * *

Gloved fingers drummed on the rail of the Ops balcony. Robin leaned over the edge of the dizzying height, staring out across Sector Prime. His knuckles drummed on the rail as he glared in frustration.

"If he's going to order me around, the least he can do is be on time to his own meeting," he groused.

Tek propped her feet up on the center console. Her head bounced against the black fabric draped over the back of her chair. "Yeah," she said in an idle tone. "Bossy leader-types who bark at everybody are the worst."

His glare swung back over his shoulder. The arctic blue flash of his eyes froze Tek's head in mid-bounce against the chair's upholstery.

"Sorry," Tek said, and swung her feet down.

Starfire stood with her back to the far wall, watching Robin jitter with impatience. She caught sight of his eyes flicking to her before he turned back to the balcony's rail.

Six words sat lumped in the bottom of Starfire's throat. They had lurked there, desperate to be said, from the moment she had thrown Robin out of her room. The lump jumped at his innocuous glance, trying to jump out of her and shoot to Robin in a shout. She swallowed hard, and prayed that the words would stay down just a little longer.

"Where's everybody else?" a deep voice asked at Ops' edge, breaking Starfire's worry.

Victor stood at the entrance to Ops, his arms folded, with a furrowed expression. A sleeveless ivory jumpsuit clung to his muscles. Electric blue circuitry veins patterned the suit, glowing as they caught the sun through the skylight. The silver belt trimming his waist was buckled with an oversized cog.

Most striking of all were his eyes. They crackled with energy, the same color as the veins in his suit. Their faint glow flared as he passed through a shadow in the doorway and entered Ops.

As Starfire watched him stride into Ops, she realized that his wardrobe was the least of his changes. He had done much more than simply shuck the hand-me-down sweats. For as long as Starfire had known him, Victor had always carried a weight that no one else could see. Now he walked taller than she had ever seen him, even without the added height of his cybernetic implants. Whatever he had become, he wasn't just Victor anymore. He had become something more.

"Beast Boy? Bushido?" Cyberion asked. He sidled up to the holographic table at the center of Ops. The rampant system failure plaguing the Compound had left its projector inoperative.

"No one has seen Gar since the battle with the Tyrants," Starfire said.

Shaking herself free of Cyberion's electric gaze, Tek blurted, "Ryuko's not coming."

"Not coming?" Robin said, pushing off of the rail. "Where is he?"

"He just—!" Tek snapped, and then choked. Her eyes screwed shut as she fought the red color creeping up her neck. A small plastic vial rattled as she fished it from her belt. "He's not coming. He left," she said, and ate two of the vial's white, bitter pills.

Both Robin and Starfire edged clear of Tek, sliding further around the table. Cyberion waited until she had calmed herself, and then asked Tek, "Why?"

Tek unbunched her shoulders from her neck with a sigh. "He said it was because of Raven, and that thing that came out of Raven. Was that seriously her baby?"

"Immaterial," Starfire said. "It has taken control of our friend, and expressed intent to conquer Earth. We should prepare for their return."

Robin shook his head. "Our first step should be to figure out what we're dealing with. I was laid out for most of the fight, so I didn't see this thing take Raven. What did it look like? Do we know what it is, or where they went? We don't even know if they are coming back."

"Ry called it a 'demon lord,' " said Tek. "He said something about Raven sucking up to her nature, and that we had to chop off her head or stab out her heart, and that nothing we did could stop the demony-lordy guy."

"The first suggestion out of Ryuko's mouth is murder," Cyberion sighed, rolling his eyes. "There's a shocker."

"Raven's a demon too, right?" Tek said, glancing around the table. "I mean, not a bad demon, but like a…good demon?"

Cyberion growled, and punched the table. Cracked knuckle-prints marred the projective black surface where he struck. "This is getting us nowhere! We need something to go on! We need—!"

A bundle of red cloth thudded onto the table, cutting Cyberion's growl to the quick. He and the other Titans looked up in surprise at Beast Boy. The shapeshifter had entered Ops without a sound, and now stood at the tableside with a grim look darkening his elfin features.

Tek plucked at the dark stains marring the bundle. "Gar? What's this?"

Beast Boy didn't reply. Instead, he dug into his pocket, and pulled out the clasp from Raven's cloak. He held the clasp out over the table, its cracked red gem turned to the ceiling.

As soon as the clasp left his pocket, Raven's ghostly visage appeared from nothing to hover above the gem. The other Titans gasped and recoiled as the miniature head began to speak.

"_I hope this message reaches you. I don't have a lot of time,_" the pale apparation said. "_Infusing this object with my thoughts was the only thing I could think of. But I suppose you all could be dead already, so…_" The musing Raven-head grimaced.

"_My father, Trigon, has found a way to Earth through me. It was prophesized at my birth that I would be the portal through which he would emerge and conquer your world. To make a long story short, it's happened, but not in the way I thought it would. Which is still very, very bad._

"_Trigon is a monster unlike anything you've faced. He's possibly the most powerful demon in existence. At his full strength, there's no limit to the destruction he can wreak. And he fully intends to devour every soul in this dimension before moving on to the next one. That's every living thing in existence as you know it._

"_But he's made a mistake. By being born through me, he's become half-human, like I am. He's given up almost all of his power to get here, which means there's still a chance you can beat him._

Cyberion glanced up from the tiny, floating head, trying to catch Beast Boy's eye. The shapeshifter continued to stare grimly through Raven's proxy.

"_The first thing he'll do is find a new, quick source of power. And I think I know where he'll go to get it." At this, Raven's head paused, tilting forward with great weight. She recovered an instant later, and continued, "This gives you hours, maybe only minutes, to prepare._

"_I've given you the first thing you'll need: immunity. I've anointed you all, hopefully in time to protect you._"

Tek squinted in confusion. "A-what-ed? What does that—?" she asked.

"_You'll understand what that means when the time comes._"

"Oh. Sorry," Tek said, sheepish.

The head continued, "_The rest you'll have to figure out for yourselves. To destroy a demon, you have to decapitate it or destroy its heart._"

Wordlessly, Beast Boy tugged at the cloth bundle with his free hand. It flapped open into a stained, tattered crimson dress. Resting on the wrinkled cloth was a long sword with a bone-white blade.

"_Even at a fraction of his strength, Trigon will be unbelievably strong and dangerous. You have to find a way to hurt him,_" the floating Raven said.

She hesitated, and then said, "_There's something else. Another prophecy. Or a dream, I don't know. But to defeat Trigon, someone will have to make the greatest sacrifice. I don't know what that means, but I can guess. And…the sacrifice won't be mine to make. I wish it were, but...I don't think I'll be able to help you anymore._

"_By now, Trigon has probably enslaved me. I'll fight him however I can, but I don't think I can beat him. Whatever I do, whatever he says, try to understand that it won't be me. Not anymore. I'll just be another extension of his will. Which means if I come after you, you all need to do whatever it takes to stop me._

The ghostly memory of Raven hesitated again. "_There isn't enough time to say everything. So I'll just say this: thank you, and I'm sorry. Stop Trigon. Save yourselves. Please._"

Raven's face collapsed in on itself, becoming a white mote that fizzled out of existence. In the wake of her message, dead silence rang across the table. The Titans stared at the dead clasp, which Beast Boy let clatter next to the unfurled dress.

Cyberion ran his hand across the cold hilt of the sword. "This is Brother Blood's sword, isn't it? The one you and Raven brought back from the cave?"

"He called it The Hand," Beast Boy said. He still stared through the space where Raven's message had preached their only hope. "I've seen it cut through everything that got in its way, including demon stuff, like what Dominic was throwing when he attacked us."

"…then we're okay," Tek said, and searched her friends' faces for the cautious optimism she felt. "I mean, it's just like Ry and Raven said. We, uh…we kill him. We kill him. …can we kill him? Do we kill people now?" she squeaked.

"What I saw was no person," Starfire uttered. "We must listen to Raven. This creature must be destroyed."

Robin crossed his arms. "Five of us against Armageddon? It would be long odds even if we had twice as much information to plan with. I think we need to look at feasibility before we delve into the morality and theology of the matter."

Cyberion straightened from the table. The simple gesture drew everyone's attention, and silenced the discussion. He stood silent for a moment, considering the faces around the table.

"This isn't the time to be proud," said Cyberion. "We gotta know when we're outmatched. If Raven's right, and the whole universe is on the line, then we need to hit him with everything we have."

"Um," said Tek, "I think Robin said that already. The five of use is all we have left."

Cyberion shook his head. "Not the Titans, kid. Everybody. If this Trigon guy wants the whole damn planet, then he should have to fight the whole damn planet to get it."

Understanding glinted in Robin's eye. "You're talking about a team-up," he said.

"Team-up of the goddamn century," Cyberion told him. "I want you on the horn with the Justice League. Hell, call Cadmus too. See if you can't convince them to save the world instead of dick with us, for once. Starfire, shake the dust off some of those old fossils in the Justice Society. Beast Boy, call home. I want to see the Doom Patrol on the front line of this weirdness. And Tek, you call in all of our irregulars. Tell Herald to round them up and poof them here five minutes ago. I'll get in touch with Wonder Girl to getthe East-Coasters up and moving."

Communicators flipped open, chirping in anticipation. Tek tried to make sense of the device's controls, her mind awhirl with the magnitude of what Cyberion wanted. "Vic, this is going to be huge. This is epic! Do…Do you really think they'll believe us?"

"Make them believe us," Cyberion said. "This is Raven we're talking about. She doesn't have an exaggerating bone in her body. She says the world's ending, it's gonna end. So when her dad shows his ugly face in our dimension again, looking to start something, I want him staring down the barrel of a super hero army that'll make him wet his pants. We're gonna beat him down, get Raven back, and kick his sorry red ass from here to the Fifth Dimen…sion…"

Cyberion's words dried in his mouth as the white of Tek's uniform became a shimmering red color. She stared back at him with widening eyes, unaware of her own color change. He understood why when he glanced down, and saw that the ivory tone of his jumpsuit had turned red as well.

Sickly scarlet light consumed Ops. Looking up, Cyberion found the culprit, and stared out the darkened skylight. Moments ago, the cheery window in the ceiling had been their only source of illumination. But a red pall had been dragged across the skylight. It was only when Cyberion saw a black cloud floating in the distance that he realized that it was no trick of the skylight's glass.

The sky bled.

The Compound bucked underneath the Titans. Crisscrossing fractures leapt through the walls and the floors. Glass shards rained from the skylights to powder on the floor of Sector Prime far below. The world around them roared with the clamor of collapse, as though a thousand cannons belched black, smoking sound directly into the Titans' ears. They could scarcely hear their own screams as the tremors shook them onto their backs.

As the quaking subsided, the plaster hail from the walls slowed to a trickle. The rumbling quieted. With a long, despondent moan, the Compound's broken frame settled, unleashing a storm of dust that made the red air shimmer.

Groaning, Beast Boy scraped his head from the cracked floor. He felt something cutting into his palms, and saw the hilt of The Hand clutched tight in his grasp. Around him, he heard four other soft moans, and four bodies stirring on the tilted balcony.

And beyond them, he heard nothing. Outside of the Compound, he heard total, absolute nothing. There were no cars or trains. There were no voices, or footsteps, or heartbeats. The distant ocean sat perfectly still. Not a stirring of wind remained.

He drew a gasp. A hideous stench flooded his nose, one so foul that it emptied his stomach down the slope of Ops with thunderous vomiting. An entire world of scents had become a single smell so hideously _wrong_ that it made Beast Boy sick. It was the same stench of the creature from Sickbay.

"X'Hal," Starfire swore, and stared at the red sky through the broken ceiling. "What has happened?"

Cyberion tapped the side of his head. His eyes became electric blue slits. "I can't raise anything. Wi-Fi, satellite…everything's gone."

"The communicators still function," Robin said, and smacked the side of the canary yellow device. "It's like there's no network to connect to."

As Beast Boy heaved, he heard a lone sound emerge to fill the silence outside. Even as he drew a shuddering gasp, the sound grew, becoming loud enough for the others to hear it too. It was a long, slow, resonant laugh, which reached inside all of them to shake their very bones.

"Outside," Cyberion murmured.

* * *

"Hey! Hey!"

Shimmer shrieked, throwing herself against the lifeless bars of her cell. The Compound's emergency backups had failed the moment of the great tremor, leaving her and the other Tyrants incarcerated only by thick shafts of steel.

Jinx lay sprawled behind her, staring at the ceiling. Beneath the bruising and the aches, the witch's skin buzzed with a silent scream. The living chaos that dwelled within her whipped into madness at the introduction of some new, unknown factor of entropy.

"He saved me," Jinx murmured over and over, her voice barely a whisper. The mantra protected her from the insanity of her own power. "He saved me."

Next to Jinx on the floor, a statue lay, twisted in frozen agony. Its mouth hung open in a frozen cry, its eyes screwed shut. Delicate stone hands protected the otherworldly beauty of its face. And from its skin, a mural of swirling color spilled forth, drifting up to the ceiling to disappear through the alloy of the cell.

Glancing back at the petrified, fossilized visage of Blackfire, Shimmer redoubled her efforts against the bars. If she had been able to muster a moment of clarity, she could have melted her cage with a wave of her hands. Instead, she grasped the bars, rattling them with her whole weight, and screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Hey! Hey, what's going on? Let us out! We're turning to stone down here! Let us out! Let us out!"

* * *

Cyberion's boots skittered on the fresh blacktop as he stopped on the dead street. "Jesus, no," he said.

The quake had robbed every window and door of its glass as far as he could see. Glimmering shards lay everywhere, reflecting the sky, turning sidewalks into red carpets. Older buildings had collapsed into rubble. Newer buildings stood cracked, pieces torn from their sides by the upheaval of the earth.

But the dumbstruck Titans didn't see the collateral damage around them. Everywhere they looked, they saw a single moment of terror sculpted in everything that had once lived.

Stone birds dotted the brown grass of the lawn, their wings spread as if to fly away. Gray, petrified trees lined the streets with thousands of razor-thin leaves clinging to their boughs. Cars were wrecked in buildings and against each other in the street. Their drivers had been turned to stone, just like the pedestrians frozen on the sidewalks.

Tek approached one of the statuesque people. Hands trembling, she touched the woman's cold rock face. The woman teetered, making Tek jerk her hands back with a yelp. "What's happening?" Tek stammered. "What happened? What happened to all of these people?"

The resonant laughter came again, drawing their eyes past the skyline of the city.

Robin had to look again. Upon first glance, his eyes had seen a tall, dark shape looming above the water, and had mistaken it for another building. But it was no building overshadowing the bay. "There," he deadpanned, and nodded toward the ocean.

Red-black beneath the swirling charcoal clouds, a giant stood upon still waters. The soles of his bare feet pressed against the flat surf as though it were land. The crown of his long, flowing white hair topped every one of the city's skyscrapers, and his shadow trailed across the water for miles. Four malevolent eyes blazed in his face. The nubs of his forehead had sprouted into gnarled antlers, from which black lightning blazed across the sky.

With eagle eyes, Beast Boy spied a small, fluttering shape orbiting the red giant. Through the horrid stench, he caught a fleeting wisp of something familiar. His heart leapt into his throat.

The giant smiled upon the statuesque city. His lips parted for a single word.

"**Mine**."

From the streets and the buildings and from below and between, the most beautiful colors leapt into the air. Light of every shade twisted out of the statues around the Titans. A living nexus of color formed high above their heads, growing larger by the second.

Awash in the light, the Titans stood aghast, and witnessed the end of the world.

**To Be Continued**


	38. Ascendance: The End

**Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Ascendance**: _The End_

His friends' breathless cries dwindled behind him as Beast Boy sprinted through wasteland streets. A gallery of horror-stricken statues wailed without voices as he wove through their midst. The pounding of his feet echoed in the haunting silence, chasing him to the bay.

The heavy sword swung in his grasp, its white blade flashing with all the myriad colors arising from the world. A jolt ran up Beast Boy's arm each time the sword brushed through a ribbon of the misty colors arising from the world. Its edge parted the incandescence, making the colors swirl and dance in the wake of the sword.

Beast Boy did not notice the sword's heft. He could not smell the stale, permeating death, nor heed the utter silence of the world. His body met his demands with greater muscle, fresh sinew, rushing blood, and eyes that pierced the distance separating him from the great red giant that loomed over them all.

Trigon stood motionless atop the bay, as he had since his laughter had drawn the colors from the city's statuesque populace. The iridescent storm swirled around him, blotting out the red sky with a tapestry that ebbed and pulsed and trembled as though it were alive, and in pain.

The beauty of the colors fell upon indifferent eyes. Beast Boy's eagle gaze flickered across the backdrop of Trigon's expansive chest, and came to rest upon a fluttering black mote. He stared hard, his eyes smoldering, until he could make out the details of the speck. He saw the glowing runes tattooed into its pallid skin, and the hanks of oily hair billowing inside its hood. As he stared into its four luminous eyes, he felt it stare back, and became enraged.

_It's not really her_, his rational mind insisted. _She said it wouldn't be her._ _She's been changed._

His rationality shattered with a roar that started in his toes and rattled up through him to explode out his fangs. Whatever humanity he had left was swallowed by the beast that lurked beneath his skin.

His body rippled. A thick mane engulfed his shoulders and elongating body. Four hooves fell to the ground, punching craters into the cracked road as he galloped. Flecks of pavement skittered off the scales of his thick tail, which curled up over his back and ended in serpent jaws, which were filled with the hilt of The Hand. The colors in the air trembled as the green chimera roared.

The window-shattering howl came as a whisper to Trigon, who nevertheless turned his head. Bemusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. "**A mortal?**" he boomed. "**Alive?**"

Skittering to a stop at the edge of a concrete dock, the chimera howled again. Fire gushed from its mouth and nose, rippling the still, black waters. The sword flicked in his tail's maw.

Trigon took one hand into the other. When he moved, the storm of colors rushed around him. His thumb brushed the nub of his pinky as he saw the needle-thin flash of the blade. "**So,**" he rumbled, "**I see Azar put his prize to good use. But a sharpened fleck of bone will brook you no hope here. You are in my realm, mortal. None dare stand against me and live.**"

The chimera snorted flame. It pushed off the dock's edge, plunging into the pitch waters. The surface stilled unnaturally fast, becoming a smooth mirror for the sky once more.

An instant after the last ripple disappeared, bubbles began pearling across the water's face. The bubbling grew faster, more fervent, until a smooth black shape breeched from the water. The creature was so green as to almost blend into the black ocean. Glassy, soulless eyes dotted its skin, a thousandfold stare set upon Trigon. A nest of tendrils thrashed behind the creature, propelling it at tremendous speed. The Hand splashed behind it in a tentacle's grasp.

His ugly laugh shook the world. "**I admire your courage, little changeling. Too, your hatred invigorates me. Swear your life to mine, and I shall allow you to serve me.**"

The creature breached again. A deep, mournful song broke with it, a single note that rose and fell. The haunting cry consumed the echoes of Trigon's laughter. The creature did not swerve or slow in its charge.

Trigon's scowl smoldered. Lifting his hand, he boomed, "**Your arrogance has sealed your fate, mortal. So be it!**"

A crimson blaze sprang from Trigon's hand, stretching until it filled the width of the bay. The colors tumbled out of the way as the ceiling of fire descended upon the green-black leviathan. The glassy surface of the ocean sizzled, becoming a red boil an instant before the fire slammed into the water.

Steam billowed from the ocean in a glimmering, twisting pillar miles in diameter. Trigon smirked at the fading boil, and returned his attention to the storm gathering around him.

A resounding snarl made Trigon turn back. Out of the fire clinging to the waters burst a long, powerful serpentine creature, which beat the air with enormous bat wings jutting from its back. Its black scales glimmered with emerald undertones as it pierced the swirling colors in the sky. Its claw clutched The Hand, dwarfing the miniscule blade.

As Trigon watched the dragon approach, he saw the blackness of its scales crackle and fade, disappearing last where the last tongues of flame clung to its body. It emerged from the storm fully green.

Reaching with otherworldly senses, Trigon felt a presence stir within the dragon, batting aside his attentions. Even rebuffed, the demon lord recognized the presence within the shapeshifter at once. "**So, my daughter saw fit to protect you from my influence,**" he mused.

The dragon replied with a bellowing geyser of fire. It flew at Trigon's skyscraper chest, its wings pounding the iridescence of the air.

"**But I wonder what will protect you from her influence?**"

A circle of blackness opened before the dragon in the cascading storm. Raven emerged from its depths.

The flash of her flat, four-tiered scowl broke the dragon's bloodlust. Squalling, the dragon beat its wings backwards to hover before the sorceress. She hung in the air, as puny to the great beast as it was to Trigon, yet her face betrayed no reaction to the dragon's stare. Craning its neck, the dragon roared, its slavering fangs awash in the glow of her brands. Its volume shook the air, and its breath made her cloak twist and dance behind her. But she did not move, or blink, as its roar dwindled into breathless despair.

Trigon snickered, a looming voyeur. "**I know your heart as I know hers, changeling. Hers is a void, an empty, withered vessel to be filled with my hate. But your heart aches with the weight of her. All mortal hearts are merely a weakness to be exploited.**"

Without warning, Raven's hands arose. Blackness sparked in her palms, becoming a lance of soul-self that struck the dragon's armored belly.

"**And now your heart has killed you.**"

The lance stretched across the bay, folding the dragon around its blunt tip. Wings flailing, body crushed, the dragon spiraled at the end of the lance, and then hammered through a warehouse. The metal siding bashed and tore at the dragon as it left the building and slammed through the next, and then the next. When the buildings at the wharf were exhausted, the lance struck ground, and burrowed through city blocks of street. Waves of pavement leapt at its passing, showering the petrified citizenry in rubble.

At last, the lance stopped against the foundation of an old building. The long, black line dissipated, leaving behind a scar that stretched across the city, and a mountain of dirt piled high against the building's face.

A satisfied noise whorled from Trigon's nose. "**A pity,**" he said of the scar's distant terminus. "**You would have made a fine herald, or an interesting meal.**"

The thought spurred his ageless hunger. Trigon recalled his daughter to his side, and pondered no more on the curious collection of bone and blood and scales buried in the lifeless city. His meal awaited him, and nothing remained to oppose him.

Soon, tantalizingly soon, he would feed.

* * *

He opened his eyes. The sky danced overhead, overlapping into new and vibrant hues, wrapped around buildings that stretched down toward the ground around him. The buildings and the colors spun, slowing down only after several minutes of concentrated effort.

A mountainous mound of rubble pillowed his throbbing head. Little flecks of concrete tumbled down his face when he made the mistake of trying to move. Molten pain oozed out of his bones to fill every part of him. He collapsed, gasping for the breath to scream, and heaved until his agony quelled.

Through tears, he saw a silhouette loom above him, blotting out the palette sky. The inky shape boomed in Cyberion's voice. "I think he's coming around."

"Not so loud," Beast Boy murmured.

Cyberion brushed the pebbles from his face, smoothing back blood-matted hair. "You're gonna be okay, Salad Head," Cyberion whispered thunderously. "Just take it easy."

Beast Boy winced at the words, and then again as a horde of feet clambered down the side of the craterous trench in which he lay. Tek, Robin, and Starfire all skidded to the bottom, crowding behind Cyberion to glimpse the prostrate shapeshifter.

"Look at him," Tek said, leaning on Cyberion's elbow. "He doesn't have a scratch on him!"

As his head began to clear, and his friends' voices dimmed to a dull roar, Beast Boy managed to look down at his half-buried body. A few shreds of his shirt still hung from his waist. Some of his pants remained, enough to maintain what little dignity he had remaining. His exposed skin bore smudges, and stains from where he had plowed through sewage lines, but none of the gaping wounds he had expected. Beneath the skin, he could feel the last of his organs twitching back into their proper places.

"We all saw you charge him," Robin said. "None of us could keep up. You were…"

"We did not know you could turn into such creatures," Starfire said. "I have never seen such animals here on Earth…or anywhere."

"Am I the only one spazzing out about this? You turned into a dragon!" exclaimed Tek. "A freaking dragon! And you got pounded across the city, and look at you! Holy shit, Gar!"

Cyberion pressed her back. "Ease off, kid," he said. Then he asked Beast Boy, "What happened?"

Beast Boy groaned, letting his head settle back into the rubble. "I was gonna ask you the same thing. I remember the world ending. I saw the big red guy in the loincloth. Then it gets kind of blurry. You found me here?"

A meaningful glance shot between the four Titans above him. Tek stepped around, her eyes struggling to meet Beast Boy's fuzzy confusion. "We…saw you try to fight the big guy out there," she said. "And when you went down, we sort of tracked you by the, uh, trench."

"'Fight' isn't the word I'd use," Robin said, scowling and crossed his arms. "You have to be lucky beyond belief to survive a blast like that. And all you managed to do was put Trigon on his guard. Whatever surprise we might have had is gone now, thanks to you."

Before either Beast Boy or Cyberion could snap back at him, Tek stepped forward with her hand raised. "Question. How exactly did he survive that? The big red guy sent a big red wave that turned the whole bay into soup. Maybe Gar can heal quickly, but from something like that? All the Band-Aids in the world wouldn't help."

Thinking back to the battle drew fresh, blossoming pain into Beast Boy's head. He rubbed his temples, forcing his memories to the surface one shard at a time. "I dunno. I remember…I remember the water. Then everything went red…and then everything went black."

"Well, that part makes sense. Anybody would black out after a hit like that," Cyberion said as he slid Beast Boy's arm over his shoulder. "Easy. Okay?"

With Cyberion's help, Beast Boy lurched onto his feet, spraying debris down the mound's slope. "No," he grunted. "It's like everything around me turned black, and then faded back to normal. Like being swallowed by…un-light…anti-light…something. Like what happened with Raven when she was…"

He trailed off. The memory of Raven arched on the biobed stabbed deeper than any pain could. It made him remember the cold, flat, hateful face he had seen the instant before being thrust through half of the city. He fought the image away, and looked instead to the odd weight hanging in his clenched fist. The hilt of The Hand bit into his palm, its blade tipped into the soft earth beneath him.

A growl stirred in his chest. The beast refused to forget her face. It grasped the memory in its teeth, and tightened his grip on the sword's hilt. Its strength jolted through his legs to free him from Cyberion's help. The growl worked up through his throat.

"It was her," he rasped. "It was Raven. She protected me somehow."

"Dude…" Cyberion said, taking a step back from the rumbling shapeshifter. "It didn't really look like she was interested in protecting you from much of anything."

"No!" snapped Beast Boy. "Before that! Before he took her away, she…she did something…"

The rest of the Titans lapsed into worried silence at Beast Boy's frustrated scowl, until Tek cried, "Appointed!" When the scowls and worried silences turned upon her, she smacked her fist into her palm, and said, "Don't you remember? Raven's floaty-head said she had appointed us!"

Starfire's scowl rose in sudden understanding. "Anointed," she said.

Tek pointed excitedly. "Yeah, that! She said we were anointed, and that we would know what that meant when the time came! Don't you guys remember that big black whosits that exploded out of sickbay when the Tyrants attacked us?"

"It was Raven's soul-self," Robin mused. "It had to have been. She wasn't trying to protect herself from the Tyrants. She was trying to protect us from Trigon. She…infused us with part of it, somehow. With part of 'her.' "

Looking up at the sky, Starfire said, "That infusion must have been what protected us from the creature's petrifaction. Raven saved us from becoming statues like the others."

The excitement drained from Tek's expression as she looked back to the disheveled Beast Boy. "Ooh…but whatever she did won't protect us from her. And she kind of works for the big guy now, doesn't she?"

"She doesn't work for—!" Beast Boy bit his lip, curtailing his snarl before it panicked Tek. He tasted blood beneath his fangs, and forced a long, slow breath through his nose. "That thing is controlling her somehow. Raven needs our help. We have to save her!"

Cyberion had been propping Beast Boy up, and now rested a hand on the shapeshifter's chest to hold him back. "Easy," he said. "We will. We'll save Raven."

"S-Sure, Gar," Tek said, reaching for the plastic vial in her belt on instinct. A white pill eased the shaking in her hands. "Of course we want to save her. It's just…Even if we win…" The vial in her hands began to rattle again as Tek looked up. Drab, gray ruins filled her brimming eyes. "Guys, even if we beat this thing…will Raven still be Raven afterward? Will anybody? What if the world's stuck like this forever?"

The question had been in all of them, waiting for someone to give it voice. At Tek's soft uttering, the thought grew heavy. One by one, their gazes fell into the loose earth at their feet.

Then Cyberion looked up. "Then I guess I'm pretty damn lucky," he said, jerking all eight eyes out of the dirt. "If we're stuck like this forever, I couldn't have asked for four better people to share the whole world with.

"We'll worry about what happens after when we get to 'after.' Right now, we've got a job to do, and a friend to save. So let's get to work." Cyberion said, and stuck his hand into their midst. "Titans Together."

After a second's pause, Robin clasped his hand atop Cyberion's. "Titans Together," the Teen Wonder said solemnly.

Starfire's hand joined his. A light squeeze drew his eyes to hers. "Titans Together," she agreed.

Beast Boy thrust the tip of The Hand into the ground. He imagined the yielding earth to be red flesh, and felt a surge of animal hate wipe away his exhaustion. Stacking his clawed hand on top of his friends', he rumbled, "Titans Together."

The vial disappeared back into Tek's belt. Her smile uneasy, she joined her hand to theirs, and said, "Dibs on Europe."

They stood beneath the surface, in a crater made from a fraction of their enemies' power, the warmth in their hands providing their sole comfort in a cold, bleak hell. A noticeable absence remained in their circle, a gap at Beast Boy's side, one which hurt them all. With unspoken agreement, they vowed to fill that gap or die in the attempt.

Beast Boy's ears pricked at the sudden emergence of new heartbeats at the edge of the crater. Soft, crunching footfalls worked through the fuzz in his brain. He heard a crackling, and felt the hairs on his neck stand at attention. "Move!" he cried, his outline blurring.

The green lion's roar spurred the Titans apart an instant before pink lightning turned the rubble where they stood into molten glass. Tek's armor swallowed her in time to take the brunt of a green bolt, which slammed her into the side of the trench. Robin made for the opposite side of the crater. Then he backpedaled hard, crashing into Starfire as the crater's wall became an oozing acid mire.

A catalogue of weaponry flashed behind Cyberion's eyes, aching to manifest in his arms. He held the arsenal back, and looked up to the edge of the crater. "You have got to be kidding me," he said.

Jinx cradled a readied blast of hex, one bright and loud enough to dismantle Cyberion down to his component molecules. The pure chaos burned in her scowl. Around her, the other Teen Tyrants rimmed either side of the crater-trench, with Billy Numerouses backing them up on both sides.

"Look what you did!" Jinx cried, and loosed her blast.

The hex met the ground at Cyberion's feet, spraying debris across his pale, sleeveless bodysuit. Gizmo's disruptor bolts splashed through Shimmer's crawling acid mire, herding Robin and Starfire back toward Cyberion. Outnumbered and outflanked, the Titans gathered in the middle of the crater, their backs encircling the sunken Hand.

Shimmer grasped the crater's edge. More of the wall transformed into greenish sludge, pooling down the crater wall in an inexorable march toward the Titans. "You brought that thing here!" she screamed. "Your little goth bitch killed everything!"

A Volkswagen Beetle groaned as its wheels left the ground. Mammoth hefted the car above his head, grasping it by each axle. "Now we're gonna kill you!" he bellowed, and took aim with the car's bumper.

Iridescent pink tears floated from Jinx's eyes, sparking before they winked out of the air. "It's your fault," she sobbed, and made bonfires of her hands. "This is all your fault. I'm going to roast you down to your goddamn bones!"

Beast Boy's fur became skin and shredded uniform once more. "Why are they here? 'How' are they here?" he growled just loud enough for the other Titans to hear. "Why would Raven protect these guys too?"

"Dude, I don't think she had time to be choosy," muttered Cyberion.

"They seem more agitated than usual," Starfire murmured. Starbolts lit in her palms, which she cupped to keep hidden.

"Might be all this apocalypse," Tek murmured back. "It's got me feeling a little wonky."

"We're running out of time. We need to take them out quickly," Robin whispered. "Tek is the distraction. Beast Boy and I can—"

"No," Cyberion said. He stepped out of their formation with his hands raised.

As the others watched in bewilderment, Robin tensed, letting his hand drift toward his belt. "Vic, what are you doing?" he hissed.

Cyberion ignored him, and met Jinx's tearful scowl with a steady look. "Pretty lousy weather we're having, huh? It's like a kindergarten finger-painting massacre up there."

Jinx convulsed with rage. The dead air replied with a sudden gale that whipped around her. Her fires danced in her hands as she screamed, "Shut up!"

"Looks like it might rain cats and dogs…or maybe fire and brimstone," he continued. His uniform changed, manifesting pockets, in which he stuck his hands with a shrug. "Should've brought an umbrella. Or a priest."

"Right. Vic's checked out, guys," Tek squeaked.

Through billowing hair and sparking tears, Jinx roared, "You think this is a joke? You think you're funny, hero? You ended the world!"

"Me, personally? Sure, why not?" Cyberion said, and shrugged again. "And now you're gonna kill us. Smush us real good. Start with me, why don't you? Oh, but don't wait too long to get Robin. He's sneaky. And really grind Beast Boy into the ground. I mean, just mash the hell out of him, you know? He bounces back pretty hard these days, so you need to do the job right the first time."

"Shut up!" screamed Jinx.

Shifting his Volkswagen load, Mammoth snarled, "Jinx, c'mon! Let's do this already!"

"Yeah. 'Do it,' " jeered Cyberion. "And then what? After you finally kill us—way to go, by the way, it only took you guys about a year of trying—what are you gonna do? Head down to The Hideout for a beer?

"…um," said Shimmer. The oozing of her acid mire faltered.

"Look around, you morons!" Cyberion shouted, throwing out his hands. "With everything going on right now, are you seriously keeping up this pissy little grudge we have?"

Gizmo shifted his weight from foot to foot. The glowing mouths of his disruptor cannons bobbed. "Yeah, well…we can still kill you, bolts-for-brains! We'll strip all that pretty new skin right off of you and make it into a handbag, and then…and then we'll…"

Cyberion fixed him with a pointed look. "Yeah. And then. While you're stomping us into the dirt, that thing," he said, and pointed to the red colossus looming over them, "is going to finish his planet-sized snack. And y'all can die happy, knowing you just killed the only people left on the planet who are actually trying to do something about it."

"Yeah!" The cheer erupted from the gaggle of Billys lining the crater. Then they looked between themselves in sudden thought. "Uh, yeah?"

"If you really wanna kill us, then just up and do it, and quit yapping about it," Cyberion said. "Then you can sit back and watch everything end. Or, if you aren't completely brain-damaged, you could help us."

"No!" Robin snapped. "We can't trust them, and we can't waste time watching our backs. We've already lost too much time as it is."

"We don't need to trust them. They've got as much stake in this as we do," Cyberion answered, still facing Jinx. "I'm offering them a chance to save all the things they might want to rob or break later on. They'd have to be crazy to say 'no.' Just like we'd have to be crazy to turn down any help we can get," he added.

Jinx was silent for a moment, ignorant of the inquisitive looks from her teammates. The colors roiled overhead, drawing her eyes toward the demon standing at the top of the world. Looking up, she watched Trigon orchestrate the world's souls into a tempest. She remembered the scalding red light that had spilled out of Raven. Her arm tingled with the impression of a hand that, mere hours ago, had saved her from being the first to die, only to take her place instead.

Finally, Jinx said, "You actually think you can beat him."

Cyberion's mouth twitched. "Yeah. I actually do."

"I say we frag 'em!" Gizmo cried. The ends of his cannons flared. "Gear-Meat is just trying to bluff us! Let's—!"

"Shut up, Mik!" Mammoth bellowed. The car dropped from his shoulders, crunching hard on the pavement behind him. His hard look drifted up from the Titans to pierce the haze around Jinx's eyes. "Nikki?" he gruffed.

The other Tyrants waited, wordless and still, for Jinx's decision.

Robin ghosted behind Cyberion, lowering his voice to a graveyard whisper. "This is a mistake."

"Then you'd better say 'I told you so' now," Cyberion retorted. His gaze drifted up to the storm, where the luminescence writhed in mounting fervor. "You might not get the chance later on."

* * *

From across the globe, the last remnants of life streamed through the upper atmosphere toward the focal point above Jump Bay. The iridescence slithered from on high, joining the essences of every plant, every animal, and every person on Earth in a convergence of blinding magnitude.

Trigon skimmed his fingertips through the edge of the silent maelstrom. A shiver traversed the gangling length of his spine as raw life pulsed against his skin. His meal was collected, complete, and ready to be consumed. But first, it would require purification.

A fraction of his will stretched into a fluttering vessel, which rode the edge of the maelstrom overhead. His unseen presence squashed the vessel's mind, stifling her wordless, screaming protests long before they reached her throat. The vessel's four eyes flashed red as her arms spread from the fluttering recesses of her black cloak, parting the storm.

His daughter had been bred to be many things to Trigon. First among her duties was to serve as his Portal, and she had served that purpose well. Too, she was a living gateway, one that would carry his magnificence to the billion-billion realms of the multiverse.

But the half-breed was also an empath of unequivocal sensitivity. She absorbed ambient emotions. Her soul would filter from the world its mortal trappings—love, fear, joy, sorrow, memory—leaving only the purified life energy for him to consume. She had done so in Azarath, and would do so now, and continue at each new dimension.

And when the aggregate emotions of Trigon's meals destroyed her soul, Trigon would consume her lifeless husk, reabsorb the dimensional nexus, and bestow it upon a new progeny to begin the cycle anew. So he had done in countless numbers throughout time, and so would he continue to do, until all of Creation resided in him.

At Trigon's command, his daughter descended from the maelstrom to hover before his open mouth. The storm trailed after her, pulled by the force of her receptive soul. A vortex of color stabbed into her chest, funneling through her arched body. It emerged from her back as cool, pure, white light.

Trigon spread his lips around the oily, luminous cloud of life. The taste of it sent pure pleasure shooting across his nerves. He pulled at the colorlessness, drawing its power into him at last.

His relishing became a pained grunt as a green needle lanced into his eye. The luminescence he had eaten spilled from his mouth and rejoined the storm around him. Staggering back, he clapped his hand over the offended eye, and glared with the other half of his face toward the source of the pricking.

At the end of a dock, standing between the lifeless boats lining the concrete walkways, stood a golden torch, her hands blazing with green fire.

"Here me, demon!" she bellowed. "I am Koriand'r, crown princess of Tamaran, and sworn guardian of Earth! You will release our friend and leave this dimension at once!"

Trigon swept his hand from his eye, the red of which was slightly redder. "**Arrogant mortal!**" he thundered. "**You dare strike me?**"

His words created a gale that crashed into Starfire. A long, red banner of war fluttered behind her scowl. "I will destroy you," she vowed. "Leave our world now, and never return!"

"**Destroy her!**"

At Trigon's world-shaking command, Raven pulled the vortex from her chest and tossed it back into the swirl of the maelstrom. Her four red eyes narrowed upon the distant dock as she shot forth.

Great, shadowy hands emerged from the oncoming shape, each claw the size of a building. The hands stretched across the bay to close around Starfire with uncanny speed. Starfire watched the hands scoop into the ocean, creating tidal waves off of their black skin. She stood her ground as long as she could, until she saw the red glint of Raven's eyes.

"Now!" she boomed.

* * *

Three shapes shot from the cover of Jump City's skyline miles away to the north of where STarfire stood. Two of them pulled ahead, while the green third shape glided behind them, filling the sky with its pterodactyl shriek. A white needle protruded from its claws.

Robin cut the air with his angular helmet. Once free of the cityscape, he mashed his free thumb on the Redtail's throttle. His red, winged jetpack screamed fire in reply, propelling him at ludicrous speeds out over open waters.

The hum of Tek's alien thrusters drowned out her nervous moan as she chased Robin's wake. Her helmet crackled with static before Cyberion's distorted voice emerged. "_Did she take the bait?_" he demanded.

Their satellite communications had always been clearer, but were obviously no longer an option. The radios in their communicators, while still working, were made to fuzz and screech at the energies abound in their airspace. "_Confirmed,_" Robin said scratchily, and with composure that Tek envied. "_We're on approach now. Tek is my flank, and Beast Boy is guarding our six. Time-to-target is less than four minutes._"

"_Okay. I'm on my way to give Starfire a hand,_" Cyberion answered. "_If what Beast Boy said is true, then Raven's the only thing here that can zap us. If we keep her busy, you should have a clear shot. Do whatever it takes to take him down._"

"_The head or the heart,_" Robin chanted back. "_We'll do it._"

Tek tore her eyes away from the storm of shadows raging to the south, and from the green lighting that flashed within it. The sight awaiting them at the center of the bay almost stopped her heart. Staring down the towering, furious demon, she said, "Maybe he can't zap us, but I gotta believe he can still squash us. His hand is as big as a parking lot!"

Robin's jets burned hotter, thrusting him ahead. As Tek fought to keep up, she heard him say, "_Stay clear, and try to distract him with your cannons. I'll do the rest._"

Trigon watched his daughter engage the golden mortal at the shore. Half a city away, he felt the tremors of a new presence, and saw fire cross the sky. The nub of his little finger ached to look at the sword in the mortal's grasp. He knew their plan at once.

"**So,**" he boomed, "**you would raise your hand to me. You think yourselves force enough to challenge me? Let me show you true might! Let it be your last waking thought, to realize the arrogance of your defiance.**

"**Daughter!**"

Across the bay, Raven's head turned at her father's command. She batted aside a starbolt meant for her head, and turned. Her hands swept the dead air, creating a new gust that stirred the waters around the dock. A black portal opened before her.

Already running at inhuman speed, Cyberion cursed and pushed himself harder. He touched the earpiece manifested from his own body, and shouted, "She's teleporting back to protect Trigon! Be ready to—!"

A dozen new portals cut the air above the bay. A dozen more joined them, and then more still. Hundreds of black portals opened above the water, blotting out the color-sick sky. The still air jumped, scorching hot and thick with the smell of brimstone.

Cyberion skidded to a halt at the sudden gust. As he watched, the black sky became red once more. He thought perhaps that the portals were dissipating, until he telescoped his sight, and grew cold with horror.

Things climbed out from the portals. _Things._ Things that slithered, with serrated teeth. Things that flapped upon leathery wings dripping in gore. Things that crawled across the surface of the water, their claws long and terrible. Creatures the likes of which his nightmares could never hope to become poured from the portals in endless number. All of them stared back at Cyberion with the eyes of Trigon.

"**KILL!**" Trigon bellowed. His army screamed in reply.

"_By X'Hal…_" It was the first thing Cyberion heard over the sound of his own instincts screaming at him to run.

"_I can't… I can't…_" Tek blubbered over the radio.

Cyberion closed his eyes, and drew a long, steady breath. He could still hear a legion of horrors coming for them. "Get to Trigon. Hurt him any way you can. Whatever it takes. Everyone, go!"

"_I guess that's our cue…_"

He opened his eyes to the wry new voice over the radio. Half a mile to the south, he saw movement skitter down the end of the dock. His eyes adjusted to the distance once more, until he could make out the distinct shapes of their backup team.

The rest of the Teen Tyrants gathered behind Jinx at the end of the dock. Her eyes crackled as she bent down to the water's edge. The tips of her fingers dipped into the smooth, black surface.

She raised her scowl to the nameless horrors writhing toward them. Her energies shot through the water, stretching herself through the still, black conduit of the ocean. Sweat poured down her brow as she worked her will into the waters.

She lifted her scowl to the hordes. Her other hand followed. "One last time. For you," she murmured too softly to be heard.

The water shivered throughout Jinx's reach. All along her tendrils of willpower, ribbons of ghostly frost began to form. The crystalline cold spread in all directions across the bay. Ribbons became colliding sheets, and then bergs, until at last the entire body of water under Trigon's soles was frozen over into a solid sheet of ice. The entire bay was frozen inside of a minute.

Sixteen square miles of intrinsic, molecular heat pulsed back to Jinx through her leylines. She channeled the energy up through her fingertips, digesting it at her core, and directed it back out her outstretched hand.

"Tyrants Terrorize!" screamed Jinx.

A cone of flame erupted from her palm, growing to the thickness and length of a skyscraper as it spread. Jinx angled the white furnace upward, away from her carpeting ice, straight through the wall of horrors. Carapaces and scales and stinking flesh became shadows that haunted the flames for a split instant before they were consumed wholly. Though the attack fell miles short of Trigon, its direction left no question as for whom Jinx had meant to hurt.

As the crackling column burned itself out, the screams of Trigon's armies—diminished, but still innumerable—squalled at the Titans and Tyrants. Then, through a crackle of static, Tek said, "_I am so glad she never did that to us. Wow._"

"Tyrants Terrorize!" came the bellowing cry, as Mammoth and Shimmer charged across the ice field, followed by a platoon of Billy duplicates. Jets roared, carrying Gizmo and his arsenal into the air on laden wings. Jinx sagged at the dock, pulling her fingers free from the ice. Fatigue pulled at her features, but could not reach her blazing eyes.

Cyberion shook himself free from his awe, and ignored the Tyrants' charge. "Starfire?" he said, touching his earpiece.

Amidst the flash and terror out over the frozen bay, the shadow storm on the south shore seemed miniscule. Intermittent flashes of green light escaped the swirling black clouds that enveloped the docks. "_I am…_nnngh_…fine! Do what you must to help the others!_" came Starfire's reply.

His gaze drifted upward. Somewhere in the writhing wall of demons and portals, Tek, Robin, and Beast Boy were carrying their best hope against annihilation.

His earpiece receded into the skin of his ear at his unspoken command. "Right," he grunted. "Good looks ain't gonna buy me much in that fracas. Sarah, are you still with me?"

_Affirmative. I am awaiting direct commands._

Cyberion shivered at Sarah's clear, pleasant voice in his head. "Access every weapon and armor design rattling around in my head. If I've ever seen it, thought about it, or dreamed it up, I want it ready to shove it down these guys' throats."

_Acknowledged. Defensive systems on standby. Power levels optimum. We are now fully prepared to proceed with the kicking of monster asses at your discretion._

A small part of him wondered if her earlier concerns had been more valid than he thought. But he had no time to consider them now. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Make us shine, Sarah."

Silvery metal ate his skin. His muscles grew into cold, angular lines. Metal plates became his ears. The details of his body—fingernails, pores, hairs—faded. Blood and mucus became oil and silicone. The blue light of his eyes expanded until his sockets blazed. Blue circuitry crisscrossed his limbs and crawled up his sides.

Armored, tall and strong, the new Cyberion stood at the edge of the black sea, scanning Trigon's army with his powerful optics. New data flooded into him amidst Sarah's cool voice: _mode change complete_.

"Let's jet."

The metal plates on his back bulged outward. The bulges hollowed themselves, and then hardened into twin thrusters. As his circuitry pattern glowed across their casings, the thrusters bellowed, making the world behind Cyberion dance with heat.

He exploded into the air. Were the weight of the world not crushing his shoulders, he would have whooped. Instead, he thought only of arsenals, of weaponry blueprints, and of the monstrosities writhing toward him.

* * *

White-hot bolts shot past Robin to fill the faces of the serpentine hydra blocking their way. The hydra's three heads became one, which screamed in agony as it plummeted toward the ice below.

He could hear Tek's ragged breath through his headset, and knew she was half a heartbeat from losing herself. Nor could he blame her. The baser parts of Robin shriveled in the presence of Trigon's army, the leading periphery of which loomed before him and Tek. His Redtail was light on fuel and ammunition, and even if it wasn't, it never could have prepared him for such a situation as this.

Yet when he envisioned himself dashed to pieces between the jaws of the horde, he felt no fear. The image drew a tight smile across his face. He aimed his defiance at the heart of the slavering army, mashing his thumb until the Redtail's throttle-button disappeared into its housing.

Through tentacles, through wings and claws, he saw glimpses of Trigon's broad chest. He locked his eyes on the flashes of red flesh, refusing to swerve from the target. Raven's premonition echoed in his head. _…someone will have to make the greatest sacrifice. …won't be mine to make._

It would be his sacrifice to make. He vowed that it would be him. It had to be him.

"_Robin!_"

Tek's shriek rousted him. He shook his head, and saw a mouth the size of a parking structure rise before them. The creature behind the mouth stretched on for a quarter-mile, and the inside of it seemed to be nothing but a black tunnel lined with billions of white teeth. Its bristling, jagged innards undulated as its maw rushed toward the two Titans.

Robin's smile became bared teeth and flattened cheeks as he jerked back on the Redtail's control, rocking his body back. He activated his last afterburners, pushing him at the sky so hard his helmet began to creak. The world turned to charcoal at the edges of his vision. As he shot past the edge of the maw, he felt the tip of his boot graze something chitinous. He heard a shrill cry over the radio, and then a crashing spray behind him.

Tek rose to his side several seconds later, clinging shards of the maw-creature's shell flaking from her shoulder. She slapped at the teeth stuck in the joints of her armor, and radioed, "_It's getting really—!_"

A wall of feathers batted Tek into silence. She tumbled off the wing of a tremendous red raptor, which screeched for its flock to join it. Another terrible bird loomed with open claws at the end of Tek's arc, answering with its own ear-splitting screech as its talons closed around the armored girl.

Robin loosed two rockets into the looming raptor. The demon's midsection became fire and black blood expanding in a cloud. An instant later, thunder clapped the sides of Robin's head, and he felt a rush of heat push against him. A rattling shriek followed the top half of the bird down. Two smoking drumsticks trailed after its torso.

Even as Robin changed course, he heard a hum span the air behind him, followed by two thudding impacts. Over the top of his wings, he saw a blue force field blocking him from a trio of the massive raptors, their red feathers made purple by the crackling wall. Turning back, he saw Tek's hands stretching toward him. The trim of Tek's armor glowed.

"_It's getting really loud over here!_" Tek cried.

"Keep moving!" barked Robin.

He led the way, jets blazing. Tek shoved the raptors with her force field for good measure before dissipating the energy and following. Her thrusters paced the Redtail into the maelstrom of demons still emerging from the nearest cluster of portals.

Most of the monsters were simply too big or too slow to notice the pair, and those that did could not turn fast enough to snatch at them before the brood behind them shoved them forward, out of reach. But the closer they drew to the portals, the thicker the air became. The monsters were pressed wing to shoulder to spindly feeler at their source. Space to fly grew scarce in a matter of seconds.

Sparks burst from the wingtip of the Redtail as Robin nicked the back of a finned, flying monstrosity he dare not look upon twice. The world pirouetted around him. It took several nauseating seconds to right his wings again, and he had to juke to the side or be bisected by a claw as tall as he was.

Plasma fire burst behind him. Over the screams of creatures, he heard Tek say, "_Okay, now it's getting crowded, too!_"

His eyes drilled through the monsters' ranks, glimpsing Trigon one last time before a leathery wing curtained the demon lord. A skyscraping pterodactyl emerged from a portal, its wingspan blotting out everything in the Titans' path. The thrust of its wing nearly brought Robin to a dead halt.

He waited, hand tightening on the Redtail's control. When the great beast's wing drew back for another beat, he loosed the rest of his rockets. The small flock of black darts converged into fire upon the flap of the pterodactyl's wing, the barest of stings, which the beast hardly noticed.

"Fire!" bellowed Robin.

Tek understood at once. Her repeating cannons boiled the flesh where Robin's rockets had struck. White fire consumed the beast's flesh, making it wail in an octave humans could barely hear, and at a volume that resonated in both Titans' bones. The black scorch on its wing became red sky, expanding as the gaping wound grew wider.

Robin pushed his jets past their limits, aiming himself through the expanding hole in the pterodactyl's wing. White bolts flew past him while warning messages flashed in his helmet's visor. The Redtail's engines began to sputter as their fuel tanks emptied.

Smaller, still gargantuan red shapes whirled past him. His wings creaked and his blood rushed as he darted between monsters. The pterodactyl's wing flapped, rushing a wall of wind and blackened flesh.

The Redtail burst through the hole in the demon's wing. Flecks of flesh sprayed off the jetpack's wingtip, widening the gap by a fraction. Beyond the pterodactyl was clear sky, a straight line that ended at Trigon's chest. Robin unclenched the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and heard Tek's victorious whoop as she followed through the hole and into the open sky.

A reptilian hand rose up, its palm the size of the whole of the pterodactyl through which they had flown. The colorful world above them turned black in the shadow of the demonic hand. Three tremendous claws curled around the Titans' airspace as they hurtled into the scaled, lined flesh of the palm.

The scale of the creature grasping at them defied all remaining reason in Robin. He acted on instinct, twisting the Redtail up and sideways. Beleaguered jets shoved him at one of the dwindling gaps between the enormous lizard's fingers. Behind him, he heard a scream, and a whining hum, and then a gonging thump. Tek had turned too late.

Robin pressed his face toward the soul storm. _It has to be me,_ he insisted. _It has to be._

Thrust became smoke as the Redtail's jets coughed. Robin lost speed, and then control, and then half of his starboard wing as he sheared past one of the reptile's claws. The impact knocked his straight climb into a knotted, spiraling, smoking descent. The world blurred and darkened around him.

He fought, but the force of the spin exhausted his hand, which dropped from the Redtail's useless control. The occasional belch of thrust emerged from his jets, punching him with speed. The Redtail provided just enough lift and drag to prolong his spiraling fall to the black ice far below.

This was the end. It was over.

For one moment, his dimming thoughts flooded with relief. Maybe he had failed, but he had tried his hardest. And now it was over. He was finally done. That was all that really mattered.

In whirling glimpses, he saw a dark corner stand out against the iridescent backdrop. A storm of shadows converged on the shoreline. He tried to recall the source of the storm, but could not. He only knew of the nebulous sense of loss it evoked.

Green lightning flashed inside the shadows. With it flashed a face in his memory, a smile so blinding that it made him blink just to remember it. The green light pulsed, and Robin ached. His relief became an icy black absence in his head and his chest. Through that creeping vacuum, one thought echoed.

"K…K-Kory…"

* * *

Blades of shadow assaulted Starfire from all sides. She blocked, and ducked, and blasted the ephemeral blades. The bracers on her arms grew scarred. Too many close calls oozed with shallow blood, making her fists trail red steam as she swung starbolts through the dark shapes.

Raven hovered out of reach of Starfire. Darkness poured from the depths of Raven's cloak to attack the Titan. Where they couldn't strike Starfire, the shadows punched through the dock, shredding the old wood. Splinters filled the air in a thick, biting spray.

The disappearing footing forced Starfire back. Her eyes blazed, turning the splinters to cinders. New shadows poured through the haze, forcing her back faster still. One flat tendril scored Starfire's side, staining her gold skin red before she shattered the shadow with a sweep of her elbow.

"Raven!" Starfire bellowed, clutching her side. "Raven, you must fight the demon's control!"

Raven's red eyes blazed. Her soul-self left Starfire, giving the Titan a half-second of false hope. Each tendril thickened, trading its bladed shape for that of a bludgeon. Thick fists of ether punched through the wood all around Starfire, rocking her off her feet. Wave after wave of soul-bludgeons began demolishing the dock out from under Starfire.

Scrambling, Starfire ran for dry land. The tendrils followed, destroying the dock as fast as she could step. With one last push, she leapt twenty yards, and landed with her toes on the concrete foundation of the wharf. Dry wood crumbled from under her heels, making her whirl her arms to keep from falling backwards.

The air split open before Starfire. She saw four red eyes coming at her from the black opening. Instinct curled her fist, which she launched into the eyes. Her knuckles connected with a crumpling nose. Raven soared off the end of Starfire's punch and disappeared through the wall of the warehouse behind her.

Starfire held her breath, watching the hole in the warehouse while black ichor dripped from her fist. When she saw crawling shadows tear through the inside of the warehouse, she sighed, unsure of if she should feel relieved or afraid.

"Raven, you must stop this!" Starfire shouted at the disintegrating warehouse. "You are not this monster! You are not meant to be this way! You do not have to do this!"

Metal shrieked as the corrugated walls of the building folded beneath its collapsing roof. A wave of dust rolled from the collapse, billowing across Starfire.

Starfire blinked away gritty tears. "Whatever he has done to you, it need not turn you into this. You can choose to come back to us, if you only try. Raven, please! You…"

Raven's four eyes lit the dust, making it red fog. Starfire watched the shadows in the ruined warehouse swirl around the eyes. The Titan's words dried in her throat as Raven rose from the wreckage.

Terra had betrayed them. She had not come back. Robin had abandoned them, and refused to come back. Starfire saw the puppet her friend had become, and realized that it was no use. Once gone, her friends would never return to her. Once turned, no one ever truly returned.

"_Kory…_"

Tears overwhelmed Starfire's closed eyelids. "I do not wish to fight you. I do not want things to be this way," she said.

"_Kory…_"

"…I do not wish to be this way," Starfire whispered through trembling lips.

A violent cough exploded with static in Starfire's ear, snapping her eyes open. Through the radio, she heard a hoarse voice mumble her name. "_Kory?_"

Her whole body jolted. Starfire spun in place, forgetting the shadows that arose from the warehouse behind her. Her eyes darted through the sky, only to slam against a monstrous red wall. "Robin?"

The airwaves buzzed with his cough. Starfire blinked, and suddenly found herself hurtling toward the slick surface of the bay, her legs leaping out from Raven's clutches all on their own. Snow jetted from under her boots as she landed in a long skid.

Starfire skated into the midst of the horrors. Her strides cracked the ice behind her, a skidding, bounding sprint that put miles behind her in no time at all. A centipede the size of a bus put its jaws through the ice trying to catch her, all beyond her notice. Her eyes skimmed the sky while her step never faltered.

Past a curtain of wings, she saw a needle-thin ribbon of smoke. The ribbon's end spiraled through the heart of Trigon's army, and vanished behind the span of a twisting, undulating serpent long enough to encircle Titans Island.

She gasped at the smoke, batting aside the maw of a slavering wolf-demon without thought. Then, closing her mouth into a tight line, she leapt.

Wind crackled in Starfire's ears. Her fists stabbed the sky, pushing it aside as she rose. Teeth and beaks snapped at her, too slow to catch the tips of her boots. The ice beneath her dwindled into a small, scarred pond dotted with red. She kept her eyes locked upon the house-sized serpent. As its house-sized scales approached, Starfire felt her ascent begin to slow. The wind's crackle softened, and the air didn't push on her as hard.

She scowled. Her fists hammered into the serpent's side, and kept going.

Sinew and slime plunged around her. She felt the creature's shriek rattle through her. Bones shattered against her fists. Flesh ripped around her determined grimace.

Starfire breached from the top of the demon, wearing shreds of its heart draped around her. The serpent twisted itself into knots as it plummeted, too wracked with pain to understand that it was already dead. And Starfire kept going.

The end of the smoke ribbon lay in sight. It had fallen beneath her on her way through the serpent. She was close enough to see the glint of red metal and a shock of black hair. Dull blue eyes flashed at her as the red wings rolled.

Starfire gathered herself and leapt again. She jumped down to the source of the smoke, and sank her fingers through the wing. The jetpack bucked against her grasp. She reached, straining, until she grasped the collar of Robin's uniform. Her other hand tore the pack free from his shoulders. The pack spun away to crash alone as Starfire drew Robin close, and carried them both out of the trailing smoke.

His face felt clammy on her chest. He hung limp against her, frighteningly still. Starfire held her breath until the dead weight in her arms began to wrack with coughing. A sigh of relief shuddered out of her as he sprayed her neck with smoky phlegm.

Robin heaved. His eyes circled the battlefield in a fit, and came to rest on Starfire's face. "Kory? What…?" he croaked.

"You were crashing," said Starfire.

He struggled against the arm around his waist. "We don't have time. I have to get to Trigon! I have to…"

When he looked down, he jolted, and fell still. Two miles of open air hung below them, teeming with demons. The snowy crown of Trigon shrank as Robin and Starfire continued to rise. "Kory, are you…flying?" he said.

Tears ran down her cheeks, red with serpent's blood. "You were crashing," she said again.

Robin stared back into her gore-spattered expression. "I…I'm okay," he said. His gloved thumb crossed her cheek, wiping away her tears. A line of golden skin emerged from the stinking mess that clung to her skin.

"No," she said firmly. "You are not."

He stared again, silent for a beat. Then he said, "I know."

Six words had been lurking in Starfire's chest since the moment she had spurned Robin from her room. They exploded from her now, bursting from her lips before she could stop them. "I wanted it to be you."

"…what?"

She looked away, her cheeks ablaze. "I told you that it could have been anyone, and…in my state, that much was true. But I wanted it to be you. Very much. From the very start of my quickening, and before."

Robin's mouth dropped, empty for words. It clapped shut at a string of echoing shrieks from underfoot. Looking down, he and Starfire saw a squadron of the pterodactyl demons climbing, the creatures' wings pounding the sky.

"We should probably table our screwed-up issues until after we save existence," Robin said.

"Agreed." The edge returned to Starfire's voice. Clinging entrails smoked as her hands alighted with green fire.

They dove, each clinging to the other. Their free hands grew heavy with energy and explosives, their eyes hardening on the aberrant monsters below them. No more words were needed for the moment, save for one.

"Go!" they shouted, and lashed out with everything they had.

* * *

The lights of Tek's HUD blurred together into a blinding flare, forcing her eyes closed as quickly as they had opened. Pain throbbed in every part of her, assuring her that her limbs were all still attached and unhappy at the fact. Her helmet tilted back and met a solid surface.

She remembered the sight of the tremendous hand coming for her. Then whirling, and hurt, and screaming—her own.

"I really hate flying," Tek groaned, and could not hear herself over the ringing in her ears.

As sensation faded back to her through the haze of aches, she became aware of a rhythmic _thump_ against her chest plate. She heard the impact of flesh against metal as her ears started working again.

"Allie!" _Thump_. "Allison!" _Thump_. _Thump_. "Get up! Get up, damn you!" she heard. _Thump_.

Through arduous effort, Tek tilted her helmet up to her chest. She uncrossed her eyes, forcing them through the glare of her HUD. There, perched on her chest, was the last sight she expected to see.

"Ryuko?" she said.

Bushido looked up from her armor, his fists poised to knock again. "Allie! I feared you were dead in there. I saw you struck by the demon, and I tracked you back to your crater here."

He slid off her chest as she sat up. "Crater?" she groaned. Tek surveyed the oblong depression stretched around her. She sat over a mile back from the edge of the ice. Broken road and holed buildings formed a long, thin line ahead of her. She could see the spots where she had skipped against the ground before grinding to rest on a bed of rubble. "Oh. Crater," she said.

Bushido stepped aside as she lumbered to her feet. "I've been trying to reach you ever since the mass petrifaction of the planet. It took quite a bit of effort to—"

Tek turned her back to him, scanning the skyline through her visor. She touched the side of her helmet, and said, "Cy?"

"_Tek? Still alive?_" Cyberion replied. He sounded harried.

"—catch up to you," Bushido finished lamely.

"I got conked pretty good," said Tek. She grimaced at the looming, scowling visage of Trigon on the opposite side of the battlefield. "Is Robin okay? The big ugly's still standing."

"_Alive. Not flying. Starfire's got m_—aahgh!—_me,_" Robin grunted.

Starfire chimed in, "_We are working our way toward_—yah!—_the demon now. His forces are hindering our progr_—hhah!—_ress_."

"Beast Boy?" Tek said.

There came a silence that lasted for eons. Cyberion's voice cracked, "_Last time I saw him, he was right behind you. Maybe his communicator just got knocked out._"

Tek fought a hot rush from her eyes. "Right," she croaked. "Sure. I bet that stupid sword of his is just slowing him down. I'll look for him on my way back in."

Bushido jumped at Tek's words. "Sword? What sword? Does Garfield have a weapon capable of—?"

Tek ignored him, and ran a handful of steps to launch herself back into the air. When she willed her glowing thrusters to activate, she received a miniscule hop instead of the bone-jarring acceleration she had expected. Red lettering flooded her HUD, making her curse.

"Guys, my suit's all screwed up. I'm running on minimum motor functions, and not much else right now. I'm gonna try a hard reboot. If you don't hear from me in another minute, it'll be because I'm a monster snack."

"_Stay back until you're fighting trim, kid. And try to taste terrible._"

Cyberion's words gave her a grim smile. "Feel free to save the world while I'm out. Back in a minute."

Her armor split open, showering her with sparks as it grinded into her back. She landed on one knee, awash in the light of the armor's closing aperture, and watched the battle rage without her.

"Tek," Bushido insisted, "what sword? Have you the means to hurt the demon lord?"

Heaving a sigh, Tek said, "Beast Boy found it. I guess it's Brother Blood's sword. He says it's hocus pocus-compatible with demon hoo-hah, or something."

She flinched as Bushido walked up behind her. "Of course! The Church's relic! It may possess magic enough to slay him, provided it can reach his heart. Where is it? Do the others have it?" he demanded.

"It's lost out there somewhere with Beast Boy," Tek said, and felt her throat constrict just speaking the thought aloud.

"What? No!" exclaimed Bushido. "Tek, the demon has emerged into our world with far greater power than I ever anticipated. Conventional means will do nothing to him. Your strongest attacks will be mere hindrances at best! If Blood's sword is truly magic, it may be our only hope. If you can get me to the sword, I am certain—"

"Eat a dick, Ryuko."

Bushido stopped. He blinked. Risking a single step in her direction, he said, "I beg your pardon?"

The face that turned to him was by no stretch of his imagination one belonging to Tek. Its expression betrayed a raw contempt that he thought the gangly Titan incapable of harboring. "Go to hell. Piss off. Whatever it is I have to say to get you to leave, pretend I said it, and just leave."

"Allison, this is hardly the time for—"

Tek whirled on him, balling her hands into fists. "You left! We needed you, and you left us! You left me!" she thundered.

His mouth opened to reply. Nothing emerged. It closed. He watched her heave and tremble, her face cherrying. Then he said, "Yes. I did."

"I stood up for you," she cried. "I spent all year telling Vic and Gar and Kory and Raven that they were wrong about you! But I was wrong, wasn't I? You never wanted to be here. You were doing it because…because…why? Your stupid magic sword? You wanted to make nice with the dead guys you swing around?"

Bushido said nothing.

"I was wrong, wasn't I?" Tek said.

His face puckered.

She thrust her fists out, and screamed, "Answer me!"

"Yes," he said.

Tek sucked in a breath, like she'd been kicked in the stomach. She pierced his face with a glare. He offered her nothing more, no words, no tic of remorse. Even when she stepped at him with her knuckles cocked, he remained unwavering.

Her fist sang a single, thudding note against his cheek. He spun to the ground, startled, not by the punch, but by its force. His eye throbbed as he turned it up from the rubble to find Tek huffing above him.

"Tek," he said, "I can help you. I know I can stop the demon lord." Gingerly, he touched his face. "If we find Beast Boy's sword, I can end this."

"Screw you." Tek's head tilted, as if she had heard a distant sound. Her aperture flashed. "We can end this ourselves," she added over the clank of her emerging armor.

Bushido swung onto his feet. "Please, do not act foolishly because I—"

"No. I'm done listening to you," Tek said through her grille. Her visor glared down at him. "You made your choice hours ago. Stay here and live with it."

"Tek!"

Her armor clanked into a bow-legged run, and then opened its thrusters to a white glow. Tek kicked into the sky, leaving Bushido to watch her dwindle in the uncanny silence of the world.

Bushido stared long after he had lost Tek in the red, undulating battle. His hand cupped the purple bruise puffing around his eye. As his fingers trailed down his face, he found an odd, dour expression at his lips.

"You were wrong about me," he murmured. "You were always wrong about me. And you learned that too late. I never wanted to fight for you. I had my own goals, my own life.

"And now it seems I have no choice. Now I must fight your battles. Your way. By your means."

His cringe became a scowl. "Well, to hell with you. I will do what I must, my way, for me."

* * *

Cyberion hadn't spoken with God since his mother's funeral. The accident, her fate, his disfigurement, was all proof enough that prayers were wasted breath. His grandmother had chided him for it, talking of "mysterious ways," and the power of faith. But outside of the occasional epithet, he had stopped believing.

The creatures all around him did little to rekindle his faith. Every fang, every compound eye, every chitinous inch surrounding him defied any notion of a benevolent creator. Each demon he saw coming at him with hungry jaws and hateful eyes made him want to laugh in the face of his grandmother's hypocritical, nonexistent god.

But he prayed anyway, for himself, and for the world, and for his friends.

Compression waves screamed out his arms. His sonic blasts hammered the face of a truck-sized gecko into pulp, and continued through to liquefy its innards. The demon's misshapen neck frothed as it collapsed. Cyberion staggered to keep his footing while the cracking ice settled under the dead demon's bulk.

Two smaller demons crawled over their fallen fellow to take its place. They shrieked with ape-like muzzles and pounded their chests with six fists each. Wisps of fire flickered from their jaws as they ran on their hands at Cyberion.

Cyberion grinned, and then tensed as a screech shook him from above. One of the endless numbers of pterodactyl-like demons filled the sky directly above him. Its talons descended upon him, each one big enough to scoop up him and the nearest parking lot's worth of ice around him.

Even as he started to flinch, he saw a white bullet streak overhead. The streak shot through the pterodactyl's neck, turning its screech into a gurgle. The pterodactyl's head tumbled off its body as the impact knocked it out of Cyberion's airspace and into the advancing hordes.

"_Miss me?_"

"Tek?" Cyberion paused, turning the hexape demons into U-shaped torsos with blasts from his cannons. "Thought you might be dead." He tried to sound breezy.

"_I got hung up. Had to scrape off something nasty. Haven't you guys won yet?_"

A cacophony of hooting crawled over the giant demon gecko's corpse. Seconds later, an entire pack of hexapes climbed into view at the corpse's peak. They belched fiery promises of revenge at Cyberion for the deaths of their scouts before charging across the ice.

He gritted his teeth. "Having too much fun to quit, kid," he said.

As he lowered his cannons at the hexapes, Cyberion saw green bolts dart from behind him. Each bolt found a four-eyed glare, drilling through the eyes with heat, and bursting in a pyrotechnic shower of brain grease and skull fragments. The demons' bodies staggered forward until their momentum was spent, and then collapsed.

"Do you morons ever stop jabbering at each other?" snarled Gizmo. His jury-rigged spider stalks carried him above and over Cyberion. A cannon twice his size was wrapped around the Tyrant's body, and spat green bolts into the teeming demon pack. "Every fight is like debate club for you losers, I swear."

A bone-quaking scream from above cut short Cyberion's retort. He and Gizmo looked up, and saw a winged something in the throes of death. The creature grew difficult to quantify as its body evaporated into billowing smoke. The remainder of the creature slammed into the ice in front of the two technological teens.

Shimmer slid off the demon's vanishing corpse. The heatless smoke curled around her as she wobbled onto the ice. "Woo. Didn't expect that from his snack, did he? Are we winning?" she asked.

Cyberion turned. The brief pause in their fighting had cost them dearly. The edge of the battle had swallowed them, putting them in the thick of Trigon's army. Those demons not pouring past them in a mindless charge circled around Cyberion and the Tyrants. A menagerie of jaws slavered for their mortal flesh from all sides.

"We're really not," said Cyberion.

Gizmo's lenses widened. "These brimstone munchers just keep coming! They keep pouring out of bird-goth's black holes. They're endless!"

"Even if they're not," Shimmer grunted, "I don't think we'll live to see 'em run out." Her chest rose and fell in a breathless flutter. Black ichor matted her hair and stained her grim face.

Cyberion's cannons became hands, which he clenched. "We gotta get to Trigon. We take him out—"

"—we still get crunched by his fan club," Gizmo spat. "Face it. We're dead anyway."

One of the circling demons, an ant the size of a city bus, stumbled and fell. Its offending leg broke free from its body. Before it could draw breath to screech, the ant succumbed to its own leg being thrust through its thorax. Skewered, it died in gouts of black bile as a pair of ham fists flattened its head.

Dripping in his kill, Mammoth turned to his teammates and the gleaming Titan. "What're you ass-hats doing, having a tea party? Start killing things!" he bellowed.

One side of the demon ring converged on Mammoth. He snarled, pounding back every four-eyed face that descended upon him. Claws raked through his armor, opening his sides to searing pain. He grasped the claws, and twisted them off their hands, and returned them through their owners' eyes.

"Come on!" Mammoth screamed. "Come on! Drag me to hell! Come and get me! I got plenty more for all of you! I got plenty! I…"

Shadow enveloped him. The sudden darkness startled the demon horde into scattering away from him. Mammoth looked up and felt his burning blood run cold. A skyscraper-sized leg settled on either side of Mammoth, supporting a demonic lizard whose size exceeded all comprehension.

The lizard looked down at him. Fire jetted from its nostrils.

"Oh, crap," breathed Mammoth.

The lizard's jaws began to open, glowing. Then they snapped shut with a frustrated snarl. The lizard tossed its head, staggering, its footfalls knocking Mammoth off his feet. Arching against the bitter cold, Mammoth watched a swarm of red motes crawl across the mountainous lizard. He had to squint for several seconds before he recognized the motes as an army of Billy Numerouses.

"Big don't mean nothin', do it, scale-belly?" the Billys howled by the tens and twenties. They clung to the demon's surfboard scales. Grips were lost, and Billys fell screaming, duplicating in the air until they pulverized the ice in bloody droves. Those that hung on piled into the demon's face with street signs and lengths of pipe and whatever else they had found in the city to bring to war.

"Big don't stop me! I'm a million! I'm ten million! I'm Billy Numerous!"

The lizard pawed at its besieged face. Acre-sized claws squashed Billy by the dozens. The duplicates crawled into the lizard's nose, and died screaming as it snorted fire. The dying shrieked in terror, while the survivors bellowed, and burrowed into the lizard's eyes.

Each surviving Billy duplicated into a squad. Billy split himself faster than the lizard could kill him. He marched through its eye-flesh, quintupling faster than the ichor could drown all of him. He burrowed into its brain, tearing with his hands and teeth.

A rattling, fiery scream opened the lizard's jaws for the last time. It staggered back, and then toppled. A black geyser leapt up as the lizard fell through the ice. Mile-long chasms raced through the surface of the bay. A tidal wave splashed from the gaps to wash entire legions of demons into the dark waters. The lizard sank quickly, with all hands on board. Only a few red, duplicate bodies floated up to mingle with the ice.

In the heartbeat's respite, as the sloshing ice settled beneath him, Mammoth watched the ripples in the water chase after the sunken lizard. "Huh. I still never liked the guy," he grunted. "But…damn."

Sonic blasts bracketed Mammoth's head. He ducked, and saw the blasts punch back a pair of hexapes that had tried to flank him.

Cyberion slid onto Mammoth's slab of ice. Spikes extended from the Titan's soles, stopping him in a spray of snow. Gizmo and Shimmer jumped after him, skidding on the rocking floe.

"We're pushing through to Trigon!" Cyberion commanded. "Quick, before they—"

Mammoth shook his head, and gazed across the surrounding hordes. "Forget it, Chrome Dome. Look."

The demons had closed a circle around them again. Smaller demons flitted at the inner edge of the circle, while the larger monstrosities made the broken ice lurch under plodding footsteps. The circle was already five giant demons deep, with more bolstering the ranks by the second.

"They don't like us very much," Shimmer said, unable to keep her voice from cracking. "And I think we have their attention now. We all go, they follow, and they eat us."

"If you think killing one big one is gonna end this, go do it your-friggin'-self," snapped Gizmo.

"We got plenty to kill right here. You go. We stay," Mammoth said.

"Besides," Gizmo added, "We don't like you."

"We kinda hate you," said Mammoth.

"Kinda totally hate you," agreed Gizmo.

The air around Shimmer danced. "I almost hope that loincloth guy eats you. Try to get under him when you bring him down, will you?"

Cyberion grimaced. His jetpack manifested from his shoulders as he said, "Tyrants Terrorize?"

"Hell, yes!" they shouted above the blast of Cyberion's takeoff.

The glow of his jets and the blaze of his cannons faded into the demonic wall, which closed around the remaining Tyrants. Black, numbing water rushed over their feet as their ice floe tilted beneath the onslaught of the demons.

"I guess we're not much of Tyrants anymore, are we?" said Mammoth.

Gizmo stepped to Mammoth's back, his spidery legs pricking the ice. "More like we're a troika again. We just swapped one skank for another," he said.

Shimmer pulled at the air, sweeping a cloud of acid to surround the three of them. "You know what? Screw it. I hope that lead-head lives, and you two get eaten instead."

* * *

Starfire dove, squinting against the rush of stale air that pulled at her face. A red, toothed maw had chased him across the sky, and now loomed below her. She felt a squeeze on her hand, and opened her arms.

Robin soared out of her grasp, screaming a giyup as he flew into the creature. Black ichor drizzled in his wake, slicked his hair, and clung to the birdarangs clutched in his hands. As the jaws closed, swallowing Robin whole, Starfire felt a faint swell of pity for the mile-long demon.

Then she echoed Robin's cry and skimmed the demon's length. Her hands burned scars into its segmented body. She hurled bolts through its scales, pockmarking the creature into screaming fits. Even as its body regenerated from her blasts, she hurt it more, and more.

She wasn't happy. In this hell on Earth, she couldn't find a single joyous thought. But she had one hope, and it kept her aloft.

Her hope blew a hole out from behind the demon's eyes, spraying bone and ichor across the sky. He leapt free from the dying creature with his arms outstretched. Starfire swooped and caught him.

Black brains sputtered from Robin's lips. "That was the last of my heavy ordinance."

"_Titans,_" Cyberion's voice snapped in their earpieces. "_The Tyrants are buying us a shot at the big guy. We've got minutes at best. Sound off, and make a beeline for Trigon, now!_"

"_This is Tek. It's really thick in the middle, Cy. I might be late again._"

"_I'm right behind you, kid,_" Cyberion replied. "_Robin, Star, you'll have to start without us._"

The world of demons spun around Robin as Starfire juked past a flock of pterodactyls, which poured out of a black circle hanging in the air. They both felt a sharp, brief chill as they shot past the open portal and into the clear air. Trigon lay less than a mile away, larger by far than anything they had yet faced.

"I guess it's just us," Robin said, and tightened his grip around Starfire. "Think we can handle it?"

Even though he couldn't see her face, he could hear her tired smirk. "You believed you could do it on your own mere moments ago, did you not?"

"Right," he said. "Well, I lost my jetpack. That's slowing me down a little. I…I don't think I could take him alone."

Her tone feigned deep consideration. "_Hmn_. Well, then it is a good thing you have no need to," she said.

She looked down to meet Robin's pressing gaze, but it wasn't there. He was jerked from her grasp. Starfire dug her heels into the air and spun, circling around to catch him.

But Robin didn't fall. He dangled in Starfire's wake by his ankle, growing red-faced as the blood rushed down. Craning his neck, Robin saw a pale hand wrapped around his boot. The hand had emerged from a small, black pool hanging in the air.

The black pool expanded. Red eyes flashed from within. Then Raven emerged, raising her catch as she floated out of the portal. Her scowl was fixed upon Starfire, who had stopped dead in the air at the sight of the half-demon sorceress.

Touching his ear, Robin deadpanned, "Cyberion? We've hit a little snag."

* * *

Beast Boy died again and again beneath the greedy claws of a pack of hexapes.

His bare back puckered against the ice. Through the torn gaps in his skin, the demons stirred through his steaming, opened innards. They grasped whole lengths of intestines to slurp into their grinning mouths. They tore out his lungs, stealing his breath until the displaced organs regenerated in a swell of flesh. They had eaten his heart countless times, and peeled the muscles from under his skin, only to gleefully watch them grow back.

Blood pooled in Beast Boy's eyes. Blood choked him. The laughing chatter of the demons deafened him. If not for the constant agony of being pulled open, he would be nowhere, all alone, with nothing.

Nothing, save the beast.

Beneath the coils of pain, one last sliver of Beast Boy listened to the howl of his beast. That last shred of him was all that held the beast at bay. And despite his own animal hate for the monsters tearing him apart, he refused to stand aside for the beast again.

_No_, he told the beast. _Not again. You'll just get us killed again_.

The beast rumbled. His body jerked as his liver was torn out.

_Yes. Fine. Okay. So I'm getting us killed too. And I'm in so much pain that I can't register it anymore. And I'm hallucinating up a conversation with a fake whatsit that can't even talk. Point for you, asshole._

An insistent snarl. Sharp claws peeled his quadriceps free like dripping steaks.

_I'm done listening to you. I'm done with you, period. Let's just die here._

A roar.

_God, I'm so tired. I'm tired of you, and I'm tired of this. Go away._

A roar, louder than before.

_What do you want from me?_ he moaned.

Its snarl was unintelligible. The face it conjured was not. A pale, beautiful expression floated through his thoughts, propelled by the fury of the beast.

For an eternity, Beast Boy lay stunned. _You…you too? You do, don't you?_

The beast rumbled.

_…just this once. Understand? This one time, for her._

It roared.

_No. You listen to me this time._

It howled, tearing at the last of him.

_YOU LISTEN TO ME!_

The pack of hexapes jostled above Beast Boy, jockeying for a handful of the endless supply of meat. They pushed, and shoved, and hooted, and feasted. In their blood-drunken stupor, they were unprepared for Beast Boy's body to close faster than their claws could grasp. His skin rippled into place over fresh sinew.

His eyes opened. Through cat-like slits, Beast Boy saw red.

Beast Boy's hands ballooned into pincers. The oversized claws shot up and found the necks of two hexapes. With a squeeze, he sent their heads flying. Then he found two more necks and did the same to them.

The hexapes scattered, squalling at their meal's resurgence. The largest among them yowled at the other demons, spraying red as it rallied their courage. Its yowl dwindled into a squeak as a thick, green scorpion tail bisected its chest.

The green, Buick-sized scorpion tore the hexape lengthwise and tossed the halves aside. His legs skittered, skewering the surprised and confused hexapes one by one through the skull. Seconds later, when the entire pack hung kabobbed on his legs, the scorpion shed his shape.

Beast Boy's toes clawed the ice for purchase. His uniform dangled from him, leaving his sculpted muscle open to the cold. He twisted his head from one side of the endless fight to the other, plumbing the world with narrowed eyes and flared nostrils.

There. Half a mile away, he caught the scent. It was the smell of ancient bone caked in generations of blood.

His body became razor-thin bone, elongated, poised upon six serrated legs that drove him across the ice. He picked up speed, skittering until the numberless demons became a red blur rushing past him. The demons in his path were split against his carapace, carved and left forgotten faster than it took their halves to hit the ice.

Seconds later, he saw the glimmer of The Hand. All but its pommel stone was buried in the ice where it had fallen from his hand when the demons had grounded him. As he ran past, his pincer became a claw, which he raked deeply into the ice to wrap around the sword's hilt.

Beast Boy took up his sword, and then thrust himself into a new shape. He grew leathery wings from his back, and two legs that pushed him off the ground. His pincers and claws became two arms, which grasped The Hand at the ready. A face appeared—his, but leaner, without mirth.

His slitted eyes locked upon the distant, stern orchestrator of the world's end. A demonic angel, Beast Boy flew through the heart of the battle, carving apart anything that stood in his way.

* * *

Tons of screeching horror stacked itself against Tek's fists, stopping her dead in midair. She grunted, and pushed to no avail, and reconsidered the merit of her plan to plow straight through to Trigon. Behind her lay a winding carpet of dead or dazed monsters that had sapped her momentum, leaving her stuck against a centipede large enough to swallow a train.

"_Nngh_…fine," she growled. Her plasma repeaters blossomed from her arms. "You wanna make me late to the party? I get all kinds of cranky when—ARGH!"

Something with talons clamped onto Tek's shoulders from behind. A long beak pecked her cannons, crushing the fragile weapons and crumpling the armor around them. Tek cried out, thrashing in the demonic raptor's grasp. The beak came back, clamping over her arm, while the centipede turned its mandibles upon her.

Tek screamed. She tried to focus her fear into a force field. The energy refused to coalesce between her and the demon riding her back. Then she felt the beak clamped at her elbow shudder and release all on its own. Her eyes opened in time to see the demon bird's stunned expression tumble past her, decapitated.

A shadow fell over her. She looked up and saw a pterodactyl swoop from behind her to crash into the centipede. The red lizard's eyes had been carved out, and its belly had been slit. Black entrails were strung from its opened bowels and around its slender neck, and were grasped like reins in the last hands she had expected to see.

"Ryuko?" she gasped.

Bushido leapt from his blinded steed as it fumbled into the centipede's tangle of legs. His sword cut the entrails wrapped around his arm, letting him land unfettered in front of Tek. Black ichor stained his keikogi's leg as he wiped his katana clean.

"Would you care for some help?" he asked, and offered her a shallow bow. "And please, don't let my heroic entrance or my fantastic means of transport affect your answer in any way."

A second centipede threatened Tek and Bushido while the first centipede sorted itself from the blind pterodactyl. Tek scarcely had the wherewithal to punch the new centipede's head off its thorax while she gaped at Bushido. "What are you doing here? I told you—"

"You did," he agreed. "Vehemently. But here I am."

"But—"

"You are no longer my friend," he said, holding his hand up in a plea for her patience. The swelling around his black eye shone as he tilted his head. "I cannot fault you for that decision. But I am still your fr…your best chance at saving the world," he said, and averted his gaze.

Tek's visor scowled for her. She batted aside a pair of hexapes that leapt upon her, and said, "How do you figure?"

His stained sword flashed before her, cleaving one of her hexape attackers in half. Though its head and heart remained intact, the creature's scream ended in a rattle. Its eyes dimmed as it fell at Tek's feet, unmoving.

"Beast Boy and his magic sword are missing," Bushido said, and re-sheathed his blade. "Therefore, I humbly offer myself and my sword in their place."

Tek jumped a step back in surprise. "Hey! You killed it! But…but you said—"

"Magic imparts permanent harm upon a demon," Bushido said sagely. "My blade is magic."

"But it's not! That's what your whole deal was about!" protested Tek.

He nodded. "True, my ancestors refuse me," said Bushido. "That has not changed. But unfortunately for the old bastards, their vessel remains a magical artifact."

Tek stared at him a moment more. Then she said, "No."

Bushido groaned and staggered. "Are you insane?" he snapped. "Did you see that demon? Do I need to paint a picture for you? I am your only hope! You have to—"

"No, I don't. Because you aren't," Tek retorted. She loomed over him, making Bushido acutely aware of just how much larger than him her armor was. "We've all been killing demons just fine without you. And what are you going to do with that toothpick anyway?"

His answer was drowned out by a screech that shook the ice. Bushido looked around Tek's metal girth to find an enormous gecko demon looming above them. Its four eyes narrowed upon them. Then its mouth opened, unleashing a pink rubber tongue that stuck upon Tek's back.

"Allie!" he cried, as Tek was yanked off the ice. He leapt forward, his katana flashing out of its sheath. He knew he would be too slow to outpace the demon's tongue.

Tek vanished into the gecko's mouth without a sound. The demon snapped its jaws, wrestling with its mouthful. Then it turned its eyes upon Bushido, its lipless mouth stretched in an expression of hunger.

The top of the gecko's head ruptured. A guttural cry trailed from the demon as it collapsed onto the ice, knocking Bushido off his feet with its impact. A rain of black brains spattered its corpse.

Bushido scrambled to his feet and ran to the gecko's jaws. He worked his hands into the tight seam of its mouth, struggling to pry it open. "Tek? Tek!"

"What?" Tek's tinny voice yanked his eyes to the top of the corpse's head. She pulled herself out of its skull, her white armor painted gray by the gecko's innards. As she slid down the gecko's snout, she said, "You think I need saving? You want to be the big hero here?"

"I…ah…"

"You really think that sword of yours is going to make the difference?" Tek asked, and wiped the thick gunk from her visor. "That little prickle wouldn't make it halfway through the Jolly Red Giant's skin, let alone de-head-ify him or scoop his heart out. Even when the world's ending, you're still full of crap, Ryuko. I don't need any more crap, and I don't need you."

Bushido's lips tightened. "You are right. I am no hero. I have little power. But I still must try."

She snorted. "Still looking to impress your little sword buddies?"

His eyes narrowed. "No. I will fight for myself, and for my world. And if you will not help me, then I will do so alone."

His expression slackened as Tek held out the flat of her hand at stepping height. "That's what you should have said earlier. Get on."

Bushido hesistated. "You would—?"

"You're still an ass. But you're an ass who chased after me across frozen hell," Tek said quickly. "That buys you a few points. Not many, but some."

Bushido stepped tentatively into Tek's palm. She lifted him to her shoulders, where he gripped the frills of her helmet. "If I say nothing of your abysmal aerobatics, will I earn more points?" he asked, straight-faced.

"Keep talking. It'll make it funnier when I throw you into his mouth," Tek said over the rush of the wind as they hurtled off the ice.

* * *

_How is he still so far away?_

Cyberion sprinted across open ice, each of his strides covering a dozen yards apiece. After the endless nightmare throng through which he had fought, the emptiness of the frozen bay unsettled him. All that lay in his path now were a pair of red, sky-scraping legs, and a half-mile of ice yet to be crossed.

No living thing could be so huge, as Trigon was. It defied comprehension. It was stupid. It terrified Cyberion to think he had to fight something that might possibly not perceive him as any kind of threat, if at all.

_Next time a mosquito wants a drink, I might just let it_, he thought, and grimaced.

He dug deep for the last of his courage. If he was to be Trigon's mosquito, he would leave an itch for the history books. "God, I am sick as hell of your ugly smirk!" he bellowed. His arm morphed into a sonic cannon, which belched a blue compression stream up into Trigon's face.

Trigon growled, setting the air abuzz. He tossed his head at the sting of the sonic blast on his cheek. White hair cascaded over his shoulders. He looked down, searching the ice at his feet for the source of the annoyance, and caught a second blast in his lower left eye. Clutching his face, he bellowed, "**Who dares strike me?**"

Cyberion morphed his other hand into a twin of his first cannon. "One brave little mosquito," he shouted. "Now get the hell out of my reality!"

The demon lord's snarl had opened his mouth. In a display of luck or incredible skill, Cyberion landed two shots of sonic energy between Trigon's teeth, striking the roof of the demon's mouth. The pain of the sonic prick made Trigon howl and clap his hand over his mouth.

"Ha! Choke on it!" crowed Cyberion. Then he sucked in a breath, and squeaked, "Uh-oh."

Hellfire poured from Trigon's mouth. The red flames splashed upon Cyberion, consuming everything it touched. Whole fields of ice burned, becoming peroxide clouds in the otherworldly heat. A column of steam jetted from the new crater in the bay, and caught the light of the world's soul in its twisting spiral.

Trigon smirked at the clouds building beneath him. Then he scowled as the clouds flashed blue. Another sonic blast split the cloud, and dragged stinging pain across his forehead.

From the fiery smoke, Cyberion ascended, riding jets formed from his back. Hellfire clung to him, kept off his skin by a thin barrier of crackling black power. His sonic cannons poured into Trigon as he rose into the sky. "Sorry, ugly. If you want me gone, you're gonna have to do it the old fashioned way," he shouted.

Trigon's hand rose to swat Cyberion from the sky. "**Bug**," the demon lord sneered.

"_Buzz, buzz!_" Cyberion heard shouted through his earpiece. He saw a white mote streak across the sky to strike Trigon's nose at full speed. Trigon's head snapped back with a grunt, while the mote tumbled away, wrapped in a swath of yellow force field. "_I got your back, Cy!_"

His cannons became hands again as Cyberion cupped his ear. "Thanks, kid. But it's going to take more than a punch to the kisser…"

"_That's why I brought a secret weap—WHOA!_"

Tek shrieked at a river of red light, which poured from Trigon's eyes to envelop both airborne Titans. The light continued into Trigon's horde, where it consumed a battalion of demons in one shrieking flash. A corridor of emptiness emerged where the lesser demons were erased from being by the red light.

As the river of light stemmed, Cyberion and Tek emerged, awash in black static. Tek shouted to Cyberion in a shaken voice, "How long do you think this anointed stuff will hold out?"

"Don't really want to find out," Cyberion shouted back. "His head's too big. Let's go for the heart!"

He darted forward, with Tek trailing at his heels. Trigon's pectoral rushed at them, filling their vision with tensed red muscle. Metal rang as he clapped his hands together. He merged his arms into a large, flat, circular blade. Bellowing, Cyberion drove the saw deep into the wall of flesh before him, averting his eyes from the jarring black spray.

_He's not a person_, Cyberion chanted in his head. _He's a monster. He's evil. It's him or the world._ He felt his buzz saw hands cut deeper, rending flesh, while the world shook with Trigon's cry.

Then Cyberion felt the edges of his saw dull and crumple against new resistance. He opened his eyes and peered through the curtain of black bile drizzling off his brow. The gash he had opened in Trigon's flesh was knitting together, pushing back against his blunted saw. By the time Cyberion's blade became hands again, he was staring at Trigon's flawless, renewed skin.

Tek whirled past Cyberion, driving into Trigon's chest with a trio of yellow force fields. Her barriers came together to form a crude drill, which she held before her as her thrusters spun her into a blur. A fountain of Trigon's body spouted around her.

But as quickly as Tek wounded him, Trigon healed. His body pushed back, sealing itself under the edges of her force fields, until the pressure became too much, and the fields evaporated. Tek ceased her spinning and lurched in the air next to Trigon's immaculate chest. "Doohhhh…did we get him?" she groaned.

"**How dare you touch me?**"

The bellow jolted both Titans. A shadow fell over them, cast by Trigon's hand as the demon slapped at his chest. As hard as they flew, Cyberion and Tek knew they wouldn't escape the edge of Trigon's massive palm.

As Trigon glared down at his chest, a single lock of white hair dangled out of place from his forehead. He was too intent on squashing the insects who sought him harm to notice the stray follicle. Then, from the corner of one eye, he saw a glint of steel at the end of the hair. It was the last sight his eye beheld before hot agony darkened it forever.

Trigon's hand stopped, and clapped his bleeding eye. His scream staggered him. "**AAAH! What…?**" When he pulled his hand away, he saw blood in his palm. "**What** **is this?**" he demanded.

"Magic." The voice came from the end of the stray hair, where Bushido hung by one hand. Ichor ran from his katana, trailing black drops behind him as he swung down to land upon the bridge of Trigon's nose. He struck two-handed, slashing deep.

Trigon snarled and tossed his head, throwing Bushido from his face. He snarled again as sonic energy creased his cheek.

Heat dissipated from the vents of Cyberion's cannon. He clapped the side of his head, and cried, "Does anyone else maybe want to help us fight the giant freaking monster? We could use a little help!"

* * *

"_Kkkkkkkhhh_…" Starfire replied, trembling. Her hands and feet were braced against a sphere of soul-self, which constricted around her at an excruciating, interminable pace. The world outside was made stark black and white by the sphere. The only light to slip through was the glow of Raven's glare.

Robin clung to Raven's back, his arm hooked around the sorceress's throat. He pulled, and punched her in the spine, and drove his heels into her sides. She refused him any reaction. As he struggled, he could only watch as Starfire was slowly crushed inside the soul-sphere.

"Raven," he growled in her ear. "Raven! You don't want to do this! Starfire is your friend! We all are! You can't do this, or you'll never forgive yourself."

The sphere shrank further still. Starfire's arms buckled, forcing her into a crouch. Her scream was muffled through Raven's soul-self.

Grimacing, Robin reached into his belt, the stores of which were distressingly light. "You're better than this, Raven. You may not think so, but you are. You're a better friend than I could ever be…

"…especially right now." He reached around and mashed his palm against Raven's lips, parting them with surprise. The gas pellets he had been holding discharged behind her teeth, filling her mouth with acrid heat. Her eyes widened, and she roared smoke. The soul-sphere crushing Starfire faded with the distraction.

Robin bit back a yelp as Raven bucked him off. Open air whistled in his ears as he fell, watching Raven grow distant above him. The iridescent sky turned green with Starfire's attacks, which Raven swept aside with swaths of soul-self.

"_Is anybody still alive? Hello?_" Cyberion continued over the radio.

Grasping at his grapple launcher, Robin replied, "We're kind of busy here. Raven's being a little murderously unreasonable at the moment."

The launcher kicked in Robin's hands. Its hook trailed a long metal line up to Raven, where it wrapped around her bare ankle. His weight purpled her pale skin at once as he jerked her down. Starfire's punch rocked the surprised sorceress, dragging Robin through the air behind her.

"_Well, cut the reunion short and get over here! Ultra-Satan is kicking our asses!_" Cyberion shouted over the whine of Robin's launcher as it reeled him toward Raven.

"You really think starbolts and birdarangs are going to do anything you can't?" Robin snapped back, and held on tight as Starfire's battle with Raven jerked him to and fro across the sky. "We need some kind of edge! A weapon, or an opening! Something!"

A shriek from behind drew Robin's gaze. Twisting around, he saw a long, subway-sized serpent fall from the sky in pieces, loosing black rain from its hewn ends. Out of its entrails flew a winged creature like nothing Robin had ever seen. The creature appeared black at first, until the clinging ichor drizzled off its hide. As it approached, its features grew distinct, and its coloring became deep green.

Starfire struggled with an ethereal blade trapped between her hands, its tip inching toward her face. At the sound of the shriek, her eyes flickered to the side. She did a double-take, ducking her head to one side to avoid Raven's soul-blade. "Is that…Beast Boy?" she gasped.

The winged beast rushed past Robin. Its wake sent him into a lazy spin on his line. Intermittently, he watched the beast soar toward Trigon. Something white and long hung in its oversized claws. "I think it is…" said Robin.

Trigon's head snapped around as though he had been stung. The other teens paused in the fight, watching the towering demon narrow his eyes upon the speck of green heading his way.

"**Fool!**" Trigon boomed, almost shaking Robin's grip from his launcher. "**You think yourself a threat? Your intentions are transparent, the scheme of a pitiful mortal. My might is eternal! And my daughter protects my heart with her own! You cannot win!**"

Robin wondered at the sudden outburst. Then he felt himself jerked upward, and saw Raven disappearing into her own cloak. The fabric around her became hungry shadow that consumed itself until nothing remained except the clipped end of Robin's grapple, which fluttered after him on his long way to the ice.

Robin tossed the launcher and spread his arms. Seconds later, strong hands encircled him, lifting him out of his fall. "Why would Raven retreat?" he heard Starfire say as she carried him. "Not that I am complaining, but she was hardly losing our contest."

"It's Trigon," Robin said. He watched the demon lord swat at something too small or too distant to perceive. "It's like he got spooked all of a sudden."

"Could it be he fears Beast Boy?" Starfire asked, sounding uncertain.

As they drew closer, the buzzing gnats around Trigon distinguished themselves from the background. Robin saw Cyberion swoop from above with a thin needle of sonic disruption piercing Trigon's shoulder. Down below the demon's knee, Tek skimmed Trigon's calf with Bushido in tow, leaving scratches.

But the demon's hands swatted solely at the green beast, which had yet to even draw near enough to hurt him.

"Or something he's carrying," Robin said. "Remember the first time Beast Boy charged him? Trigon said something. Something about…a fleck of bone, and…Azar? What if he meant that sword?"

Starfire saw the white glint swinging in the beast's paws. "I know little about the sword. Beast Boy and Raven obtained it during my…absence. Could such a thing really hurt so large a monster?"

"Rationally speaking? No. But I think we left 'rational' behind when the world ended." He reached down and rested his hand atop Starfire's grasp around his ribs. "At this point, I'm willing to go out on a limb of faith."

Her breath tickled his neck. "Agreed."

"Let's give him the opening he needs. Go!"

* * *

Tek spiraled upward, and then dove along the landscape of Trigon's arm. She rose and fell over his musculature, her force fields edged beneath her to drag long, thin cuts into the demon's skin. Trigon's snarl rattled her armor, and his red flesh leapt up at her. Pulling up, she flew from his wrist before it snapped into her.

Bushido clung to her helmet with white knuckles. "This is all very distracting," he said, "But what now? He will not let us at his head so readily aga—"

Then he shouted, "Tek, dodge!" and leapt off her shoulders.

Tek looked up, and met the groove of Trigon's fingers with her face. The demon lord's hand swatted her down. Her brief scream ended as she rocketed off his hand and shot into the broken ice beneath Trigon. A brief geyser stirred the water. Then, nothing.

Bushido ignored the empty sky streaming around him, and the demon's hand careening toward him. "No!" he screamed at the dark, motionless water.

A wall of metal collided with him, knocking him from the path of Trigon's swipe. He found himself pressed to Cyberion's chest by sheer acceleration. "On your toes, Ginsu. You're the only thing we have that can hurt this guy."

"We must find—!" Bushido crushed his eyes, and said, "Yes. Yes, of course. Let's go."

Shifting Bushido in his grasp, Cyberion said, "She's fine, Ry. She's tough." He did not tell Bushido of the ominous crackle in his radio, or of the impact calculations Sarah insisted on running at the back of his mind. "Let's—"

As they looped around, both teens saw a dark speck dart toward Trigon's neck. It flitted across the demon's collarbone. Raw, blackened flesh opened in the speck's wake. The wound oozed and throbbed as the speck continued down.

"_Robin_ _to all points! Come in! Beast Boy is back and en route!_" Robin shouted over the radio. "_And he has—_"

"Holy hell…" whispered Cyberion. His vision closed upon the speck, magnifying it into its almost familiar shape. "Gar! I see him. And he's…holy hell!" he exclaimed, marveling at the long scar left in Beast Boy's wake.

Bushido tensed at the sight of the damage left in Trigon, damage that did not immediately disappear. "Beast Boy? He has his sword? He has the means to hurt the demon!"

"Hell, yes, he does!" exclaimed Cyberion. As he watched Trigon's hand chase after the beast, his enthusiasm soured. "But Trigon's gonna cream him before he gets the chance!"

"Throw me," Bushido said without hesitation.

"What?"

"Straight into his mouth," insisted Bushido. "I will do as much damage as I can."

Cyberion swore. "I'm not killing you, Ry!" he shouted.

Bushido snapped, "I cannot saw through the demon's neck! I am useless up here. A brief distraction is all Beast Boy will need to end this. Now throw me!"

Slowing to a stop, Cyberion hesitated. "But—"

"Bushido Blitz!" the swordsman thundered. "Go!"

Bushido's feet slipped into Cyberion's palm. The metal Titan cocked Bushido back, and then hurled him, adding a burst from his jets to make Bushido a living bullet. The force of the throw spun Cyberion off his course.

The snarling maw of Trigon rushed at Bushido. With his sword tucked against his leg, he hurtled at Trigon, his eyes made slits by the rushing air. His grip tightened on the hilt as he realized what waited for him between the demon's fangs. The next stroke of his sword would be his last.

_So be it. If I cannot live worthy of you, I shall die worthy of them. They fight for the survival of everything while you gather dust in your sheath. Let my final act be the opportunity they need to—_

Trigon's hands clapped upward to catch Bushido, crushing him in thunderous darkness.

* * *

Bestial rage clouded his thoughts, and guided him down to the center of Trigon's chest while the others buzzed around the mountainous demon. His claws dug through the red wall of flesh to slow his descent. The leather wings folded themselves into his bare back.

He hung from Trigon, his claws hooked through skin that healed around them. With his free hand, he drew back his bone sword. The Hand's blade shimmered with all of the colors of the world's soul. His fangs emerged as he thrust the blade at Trigon, determined to dig until he could carve out the demon's heart.

The red flesh before him rippled, and parted for a pale, emerging face. From Trigon's depths, Raven surfaced, pooled in the demon's skin as though she were immersed in red water. Her red eyes glared dully at him, her lips drawn taut. The light of her runic brands painted his surprise in dark crimson.

The sword's tip froze an inch from Raven's breast. The sight of her chased the beast from his thoughts. He nearly dropped off of Trigon as his shape became elfin and lean. "Raven? Raven!" Beast Boy cried. "Raven, it's me! It's Gar!"

Raven's face remained glass smooth. Black tendrils erupted from her to wrap around his wrist. The strength of her soul began crushing him, trying to force his hand open. More tendrils emerged to snare his waist, his neck, and his face. She throttled him without leaving Trigon's skin.

Gagging, Beast Boy swept The Hand through Raven's soul-self. The b lack cords dissolved at the touch of the blade. He gasped, and scampered, jumping to one side. His claws snared a new fold of skin. "Fine," he rasped, and pulled The Hand back to try again. "If you're gonna be stubborn, I'll just—"

Trigon's skin rippled again as Raven slid to follow Beast Boy. Her chest fell beneath his stab, which he stopped at the last second. The tip of his sword skittered against her shadowy vestments, drawing a bubble of ichor down her breast.

Beast Boy snarled, and jumped again. Raven followed. Wherever he turned his sword, Raven placed herself in his path, her chest centered above its tip. He wriggled the blade, and Raven bobbed accordingly, following The Hand's every movement with almost comical fidelity.

"God damn it, Raven! Get out of the way!" Beast Boy shouted, before new tendrils of soul-self emerged to clutch his throat.

* * *

Tek beached herself on a bobbing ice floe. Water gushed from her grille as she slid forward, panting. She pushed, and clanged onto her back, staring up at the tower of Trigon looming over her.

"That…sucked…" she told her throbbing head. Red warnings flashed in her HUD. She could hear her servos whining throughout the armor. Cold water had seeped through her boots, making her legs heavy and numb.

Above her, she saw Cyberion, a mere glint amidst the swirling colors. The glint hurled something at Trigon, who was busy patting down his chest. Tek's exhausted curiosity focused through her visor, zooming upon the small projectile hurtling at Trigon.

"Ryuko?" she groaned. She watched Bushido fly like a shot, her mind imagining the sound of his fluttering keikogi.

Then Trigon's hands flattened Bushido between them in a clap that rocked her floe. "**Ha!**" the demon lord crowed. "**Not again, mortal. One eye is prize enough.**"

"No!" screamed Tek.

She blasted off the floe, sinking it with the force of her launch. Her hands curled into hammers, which she careened into Trigon's jaw. The force of the collision rolled through her arms and down her body. She felt as though she were being folded like an accordion as she bounced backwards off the demon's chin.

Trigon felt her. His head snapped to one side with a grunt. Screaming, Tek knit her armored hands together and swung them into Trigon's nose. His head tilted in the other direction, and he staggered back. She struck over and over, pounding against a face the size of a building, screaming. Tek let her monster loose against this bigger monster, letting the two pound each other into oblivion.

Then, as Trigon's hands parted to swat Tek too, the red world around them became a luminous purple. Blinding blue light exploded from Trigon's palms, making the demon flinch, and gave Tek's monster pause.

The light dimmed enough to reveal its source, which was a shimmering orb stuck to Trigon's hand. It seemed small in the enormous demon's grasp, a glowing marble, if that. But it refused Trigon's attempts to shake it loose, and made the demon snarl with barbs hooked into his skin.

A silhouette crouched inside the sphere. As he straightened, his blue bubble expanded, making room for his height and his sword. "Demon!" his voice thundered, magnified to inhuman volumes. "Submit to death or prolong your suffering!"

"**An amusing trick,**" rumbled Trigon, as he brushed the dumbstruck Tek from his face. "**But you will need more than a mere blade—ARGH!**"

The silhouette stabbed down through the bottom of his sphere. A shaft of blue light erupted from the opposite side of Trigon's hand. As the blade of light faded, Trigon cradled his hand, and dropped to one knee.

The blue sphere dissipated. Bushido brushed the hair plastered to his face, and raised his glowing katana. "I have no tricks, demon. I have honor, and righteousness. I have a thousand generations who clamor for your end!"

He leapt from Trigon's hand and raced up the steep incline of the demon's arm. Blue waves cascaded from him as he struck the air. The waves scythed into Trigon, turning his red flesh black. Trigon howled and flailed, but he could not escape the elongating waves.

"I am Ryuko Orsono! I am Bushido!" he bellowed. He leapt from Trigon's bicep, sailing through the air. His blue slashes sheared hanks of Trigon's snowy hair as they cleaved into Trigon's neck, unleashing a spray of black blood. "I—oh."

Trigon's three eyes flashed at Bushido. A red light enveloped the swordsman faster than he could manifest his blue shield. Crackling black energy protected him instead while the landscape behind him withered. Though Bushido was spared annihilation, the force of Trigon's attack pushed him away, launching him into the open air.

Trigon would have blasted Bushido through the planet if not for a string of green explosions that crossed the demon's face. Growling, the demon flinched, and then glared at the golden sprite circling his head for another pass.

"Now!" Starfire bellowed, and sprayed Trigon with starbolts.

Robin was already released his death-grip from her ankle and plummeted toward the demon's open mouth. His belt fluttered in his hand, its ends clasped together. The belt's monogrammed buckle blinked red.

He landed on Trigon's lip. Brimstone reeked in the deafening wind rushing from Trigon's mouth. Closing his eyes, Robin hurled his belt into the cavernous mouth, and then vaulted clear of Trigon's lips.

Starfire darted past Trigon's face to catch Robin. She felt a wave of pressure chase her heels as Trigon's mouth exploded. The corners of the demon's mouth tore with the force of the blast, which mushroomed out of his blackening lips. Shards of teeth peppered the teens' backs.

She caught Robin's wrists and carried him away. A look back at Trigon dampened her remaining hope. The demon's mouth regenerated almost as fast as the explosives had wreaked carnage. Bus-sized teeth grew back into a grimace, soon covered by a surge of lips. "He is recovering," Starfire shouted to Robin.

Robin saw Trigon's new mouth twisted with inhuman rage. "I know. That micro-fusion charge was my ace in the hole. I'm out," he shouted back.

Tek ascended to fly alongside the pair. Bushido sat in her arms, battered, but alive. "I shagged our fly ball here. Now let's get him back in there," she said. "How about it, Ry?"

Stunned silence creased Bushido's face. He appeared old, and tired, more so than the Titans had ever seen him. The sword in his hands consumed his attention until Tek's gentle rousting made him look up. "I…I cannot do that again. I am sorry," he said.

"Huh? Well, that sucks," said Tek.

"We have hurt him and enraged him," Starfire said. "But I must question our capacity to defeat him."

Another blue flash drew them across the battlefield. Cyberion hung in the air, two-gunning sonic blasts into Trigon's face. The demon stumbled after him, swinging blindly at the annoyance.

Cyberion darted and fired. He never lingered long enough for the grasping hands to find him. As the other joined him, Starfire began adding her own firepower to his stymieing blasts.

"Gar's still down there," Cyberion said through his teeth. "Something must be holding him up. And my battery can't keep this up much longer."

"He has the means to hurt the demon," Bushido insisted. "At this point, he is our best hope—"

"Yeah, yeah," Tek said, jostling Bushido.

"He needs more time," Robin growled, and dangled from Starfire's free hand.

Cupping another starbolt, Starfire said, "We shall give him more time!"

Starfire carried Robin back into the fight. Tek chased after them, with Bushido climbing onto her back. Cyberion grunted as he watched his power level indicators dip in the corner of his HUD.

"Salad Head, you picked a lousy time to dawdle," he snarled to himself, and increased his cannons' output beyond their maximum.

* * *

Thin wires of soul-self wrapped around Beast Boy's sides with crushing force. He yowled, and cut the black coils with is sword. The wire evaporated, leaving his ribs slick with blood as the wounds closed themselves.

"Raven, come on! This isn't you!" cried Beast Boy. "This is all your psycho-dad! You've never let anybody tell you what to do. Don't listen to him. Fight it. Fight back!"

Grasping black hands emerged from the fluttering edge of her cloak. He snarled, and cleaved them into stumps. Raven swayed in Trigon's flesh with the motion of his sword, always between the blade and her father. Her face remained impassive while her shadow tried to kill Beast Boy.

The glow of her eyes and her brands turned his green skin black. "Son of a bitch!" he swore, and batted aside two more tendrils of soul-self. "Even when you're evil, you're still a stubborn pain in the ass!"

And then Beast Boy was struck silent by an idea. He mulled it over for a precious half-second, parrying Raven's murderous soul as he did.

Bright flashes filled the sky—his friends, fighting for their lives.

"You know what?" he said to Raven's blank expression. His teeth gritted into a smile. "Screw it. I might as well just carve through you. Y'know? It's not like anybody will care. You're about as popular as wet garbage, and you smell half as good. Hell, we could throw a party after you're gone. You hate parties anyway, so I know you won't mind."

He leaned in closer, shoving his grin into her four eyes. "Man, things are gonna be awesome when you're gone. No more 'Quiet down, Garfield,' or 'Get out of my dirty laundry, Garfield,' or 'Nacho cheese isn't an essential nutrient, Garfield.' No more lectures, or insults, or snarly quips, no more sarcasm, and no more put-downs too brainy for me to understand. Thing'll finally be fun once you're gone."

The tendrils had stopped attacking him.

"Even just being around you when you were quiet was a pain," he said. "Your skanky tea breath? Those smelly tea farts you tried to hide under that tacky cloak of yours? It was like living in a Lipton's bag. Oh, and here's a tip: most people don't use a mixing bowl to give themselves a haircut.

"Hey, I've got some of your dad's blood on my face. Can I have one of the tissues out of your bra? We all know you're packing half a box of Kleenex down there. I bet you'd make a decent surfboard if you ever waxed that hairy lip of yours. Oh, what am I saying? You, wax? As if.

"And have you ever even seen a movie in color before? All that art house crap was almost as boring as you were. God help it if you see a movie actually made in Hollywood, right? Earth to Raven! People like explosions and plot, not moody, ugly filmmakers sitting in a room whining about how mommy never hugged them! Though I guess you can relate to that, huh?

"Seriously, you are so lucky you're a monster. You couldn't get away with being such a frigid asshole otherwise. You try to come across as the tortured, damaged loner. But really? You're just a bitch."

"GARFIELD!" Raven bellowed. Her four red eyes squeezed shut, and then opened as two burning jewels the color of twilight. "You little—!" she snapped, and lunged at him. When she found herself stuck in Trigon's skin, she gasped. Her eyes bugged as she heaved for breath. "Garfield?" she rasped, and struggled against the pull of Trigon's body.

"Raven!" Beast Boy let go of Trigon's skin. He held on to Raven's shoulder, bracing his knees to either side of her. His face hovered before her, locking her wild eyes into his. "Raven, stay with me! I'm here, okay? I'm here."

Her breathing slowed into a ragged chant. "I can't. It's Trigon. He's in my mind. It's…it's too much. I can't…"

"I know. It's okay. Raven, I need you to move," he said. He held the sword between them. "I got your message. I got Dominic's sword. We can end it right now!"

As he waved the sword from side to side, Raven swayed with it. The motion almost knocked Beast Boy off of her. She bobbed in Trigon's flesh, a living metronome, which grunted and strained against its rhythm. The red skin held her fast. "I can't," she gasped.

"Yes, you can!" he told her.

"I can't!" she cried. Her eyes flashed red. She crushed them shut, panting until their bloody light was extinguished. Opening her eyes to Beast Boy's concern, she said, "I'm a part of him now. My life is his. My heart protects his."

Beast Boy snorted, and swept The Hand behind him in a furious, empty gesture. "Raven, I can't do anything with you in the way!"

Her eyes followed the arc of his sword. Then they snapped back to his. Her lips quivered with a ghost of her voice. "Yes, you can."

He froze. "…what?"

"**NO!**"

* * *

Trigon glared down at his chest. His fangs opened in a roar as he reached to slap the tiny blemishes clinging to his skin. "**How dare you? You are mine!**"

His hand was holed by a column of green light. The blast emerged from his palm and puckered his ribs. Trigon howled, and batted with his regenerating hand the golden sprite who had struck him. She flew through his hand before it finished closing, and scorched his brow with Starbolts.

"I cann…cannot keep this up," gasped Starfire. Her hands flung energy that she thought she didn't have, battering Trigon's face with the last of her reserves.

"_One minute,_" Robin said in her earpiece. When she glanced down, she saw him, a red dot on the ice behind Trigon. A white dot followed him until they were practically under Trigon's heel. "_Ready as we'll ever be. Cyberion?_"

Cyberion floated down to Starfire, watching Trigon intently through her hail of starbolts. "Ready. Kid?"

"_Only in the sense of 'not at all.' But let's go!_" Tek radioed.

Cyberion closed his glowing blue optics. _Sarah? We're going plasma_, he called into his thoughts.

_Such action is unwise_, Sarah's voice echoed back at him._ Power supplies are dwindling. Your sonic arsenal is less of a power drain than would be any plasma weaponry. Combat time would be severely reduced._

_It's gonna cut to zero_, he replied. _I want all available power rerouted for this one shot._

_Be advised_, Sarah insisted, her smooth voice becoming agitated. _Such a loss of power could lead to loss of attonites cohesion. If your physical structure loses power, it may become inert. You may go offline._

Trigon blinked away the annoyance of Starfire's waning onslaught. Snarling, he reached again for the miniscule teens stuck to his chest. The blistering green stings could delay him no longer.

"Cyberion!" Starfire shouted in warning.

His eyes snapped open, blazing. His thrust his arm forward, and bellowed, "Do it!"

The metal of his arm split, elongating into two flat prongs. White heat spilled into the prongs' gap. The blinding, roiling light gathered in Cyberion's arm until it threatened to burst free from its magnetic containment. Blinded by the plasma's fire, Cyberion aimed high at the center of Trigon's mass. The Titan released everything he had in a dazzling eruption.

Trigon screamed as a river of light consumed his shoulder. His flesh evaporated, the bone beneath cracking into blackened shards under inconceivable heat. The arm that had been reaching for Beast Boy and Raven fell, dangling from a single string of bubbling, charred tendon. Charcoal steam hissed from the crater in Trigon's body, clouding his eyes and running between his fingers as he grasped the grievous wound.

As his shoulder rebuilt itself from ashes, a white, armored missile hurtled into Trigon. It wrapped golden force fields around itself an instant before impact, creating a blunted fist that punched Trigon between his remaining eyes. The rapport of cracking bone echoed across the bay as Trigon's head snapped back and Tek rebounded off his face.

Behind and beneath the demon, Robin ran alongside Bushido, keeping ahead of the demon's backpedaling. The swordsman nodded to him, and so Robin cupped his hands low. The Teen Wonder caught Bushido's heel and heaved him upward, twisting every muscle he had in the effort.

Bushido soared upward, judging the distance to the demon's descending heel. In one motion, he drew his katana and slashed, carving a deep wound into the Achilles tendon drawn taut at the back of Trigon's leg. His feet touched either side of the gushing wound, and he pushed off, jumping away as Trigon hobbled backwards.

Cyberion smiled at Trigon's stagger. Then he felt his stomach lighten, and realized that his HUD had disappeared. His alloy had become skin and jumpsuit. Sarah's voice was absent from his thoughts. Everything below his neck felt empty and sore, and everything above his neck throbbed while he fell toward the bay.

Strong hands plucked him out of the air. Holding Cyberion around his chest, Starfire said, "I have you!"

He didn't answer, watching instead as the demon lord succumbed to gravity. Trigon's head bounced against a rocky shoreline, his hair spilling through the cracks of the slope. A cloud of sand leapt up from under the demon's back.

Trigon growled, dribbling ichor from the corners of his mouth. His body healed, but slower than before, his flesh sluggish to close. He was slower to rise, and clumsily shoved his hands against the beach in an effort to stand.

"Hit him!" Cyberion screamed. "Go! Go! Go!"

Starfire dove with Cyberion in tow. Below them, Robin and Bushido skated to the shore and jumped onto the beach. Tek flew low over the pair's heads, her force fields flickering. They converged upon the demon, their bodies exhausted and their weapons depleted, but their voice rallying in a cry.

"Titans Tog—!"

"**ENOUGH!**" Trigon bellowed.

The sand beneath the Titans flashed red with Trigon's soul-self. Hard-packed granules softened into a living, boiling slurry, which reached up and snared the Titans' feet.

Cyberion sank quickly into the sand, crying out as his legs vanished from underneath him. Bushido and Robin both jumped in unison, only to be snared as the red sands reached up and lashed their ankles to the ground. Tek struggled, and screamed, and sank.

Starfire was caught last. She vaporized the sandy tentacles as fast as they reached up for her. Then they started coming faster, and bound her glowing hands behind her, and wrapped around her legs and her waist, and forced her eyes up to protect the beach from her blazing glare.

Black static crackled around the Titans at the soul-sand's touch. Raven's gift pushed against the touch of Trigon, but it had no effect on the sand, which pulled the Titans beneath its surface.

Eyes blazing white, Trigon crowed, "**Enough, mortals! If I cannot have your souls, I shall extinguish them!**"

Cyberion struggled as the sand swallowed his shoulders. As strong as he was, it was a human's strength, and he had no leverage with which to use it. The living ground was too powerful. He watched Trigon rise, whole again, to loom over their deaths.

"**Your defiance ends now!**" the demon lord announced. His hands reached for the motes in his chest that sought his demise. "**Your world is mine!**"

He would have crushed the motes, if not for a storm of crackling pink energy that leapt from the edge of the shore to strike his face. Trigon screamed and jerked at the touch of iridescent lightning, which flayed the skin from his jaw. White bone glistened through the scorched wounds, which did not close.

Twisting his head around, Cyberion saw a distant figure with long, pink hair poised on the frozen shoreline. She raised her arms above her head, swirling her hands. The air replied with sparks of chaos, which gathered above her into another storm of pink lightning.

"Go back to hell!" Jinx screamed.

Her storm leapt forward at her gesture, rushing forward with such force as to throw Jinx off her feet. The lighting surged across Trigon's cheek, throwing him to one side with its force. Burning flesh replaced the pervasive smell of brimstone as Trigon's countenance was scarred with her chaos magic.

Cyberion watched Jinx fall. She did not stir again, though he saw the quickened rise and fall of her chest. That last blast must have emptied her. Tearing his eyes away, he watched Trigon brace himself against the cliffs next to the shore. The demon was hurt, and delayed. But his three eyes trailed down his chest. His shaking hands rose once more.

As the demon stood, Cyberion's eyes were drawn up the side of the odd cliff by a sudden thought. In all the fighting, Cyberion hadn't realized how far out into the bay they had been drawn. He saw a familiar, T-shaped building sitting on top of the cliffs, and realized what beach was drawing him into its depths.

_Kinda fitting_, he thought, and stared at the derelict Titans Tower as their old island consumed the rest of his head. _We're right back where we started…_

* * *

Beast Boy clung to Raven one-handed, his knees squeezing her waist to hold on as the demon lord stood. He felt Raven's pulse race beneath her skin, and shivered at the touch of her labored breath on his neck. The muffled screams of his friends sounded deafening to his ears.

"Garfield…" Raven rasped. "There's no more time."

"No!" he cried. "I won't—"

When he pulled back, he gasped at the strain in her features. Her blackened hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her breathing grew ragged as the lines around her eyes deepened. "Can't…" she wheezed.

Beast Boy felt his heart seize as he watched Raven shudder in Trigon's skin. A dark shadow fell over them both. It was Trigon's hand reaching for them once more. "No! You can't ask me to do this!" he shouted.

Her eyes narrowed. Her brows trembled, as though pressed with a great weight. Glowing red cracks emerged in her forehead, and her demonic eyes blossomed to glare at Beast Boy. The red light began seeping into Raven's human eyes again.

"No!" he shouted. "No, Raven! Just hold on. You have to stay with—"

Wisps of shadow bled from Raven's hands. The smoky soul-self drifted around Beast Boy, encircling his neck. Its grasp was hesitant, but it tightened. Trigon's hand loomed behind them with fingers poised to crush them both.

Raven's eyes filled with tears, making the red light shimmer. "Help..." she whispered.

The cord drew taut around Beast Boy's neck. Trigon's grasp descended upon him. And the last shred of Raven vanished from her glowing scowl.

Beast Boy shut his eyes, and thrust his sword into Raven.

The blade slipped into Raven as though she were water. There was no push against Beast Boy's thrust, no whisper from the sharpened bone that parted Raven. Beast Boy felt the hilt thump against her chest. Wet warmth spilled over his hands, shocking his eyes open.

Raven slipped forward out of Trigon's skin. She collapsed over The Hand. The piercing blade pinned her to her father's side. Her four eyes crashed together, becoming two shaking points of twilight. A wet gasp burst from her mouth as her soul-self unraveled from Beast Boy's neck.

Both teens shook as Trigon stiffened at the prick of the sword. For a second, the world froze. Then a deep, booming laugh swept through them. Trigon's mirth shook them to their cores.

Beast Boy felt his hands slip on the slick hilt as Raven's brow tilted against his forehead. He shoved, and pushed, but the blade would go no further into the laughing demon lord. "It won't reach his heart," he choked to Raven, his voice torn between a laugh and a sob. "It won't…"

Raven's cool, trembling fingers wrapped around his, intertwining with his claws. When he looked up, he saw her staring at him. Her gaze was clear, and steady, and warm.

Then she screamed. "Azarath! Metrion! **ZINTHOS!**"

Everything that Raven was poured through Beast Boy's hands and into the hilt of the sword that pierced her. Beast Boy saw images, flashes, a life's story shared in fragments. He felt emotions far stronger than anything he thought possible. Through the touch of her soul-self, he saw Raven more clearly than he had ever seen anything in his life.

He saw her smile as she slumped against him.

Trigon's laughter ended in a hiccup. The demon doubled over at the sensation of ice spreading through his chest. The numbness expanded, and sharpened, becoming pain beyond anything he had experienced in his immortal life.

His last breath rushed out of him in a grunt. "**Oh.**"

Blackness erupted from Trigon's back in a geyser of bone, flesh, and ichor. The shadow exploding from him culled its shape into that of a titanic bird. Its wings spread across Titans Island, its beak split in a shrill report as it turned back upon the demon who had birthed it.

As Beast Boy clung to Raven on the toppling Trigon, he felt the enormous bird look upon him. Its white eyes blazed, filling him with a wonderment no words could describe. He felt a sheer joy, a freedom he had never felt before. It was the black bird's joy he felt, shared through its fleeting gaze.

Then the black bird spun. Its wings stretched, encompassing the entire island in their span. They stretched further, reaching beyond the city. The bird embraced all the colors in the sky. Its blackness became absolute around Beast Boy, robbing him of sight and sound.

The world ended in darkness.

Then it began again in a cold, jolting blast of life.

* * *

Robin awoke to numbing cold thick with bubbles. He suppressed the urge to gasp, and kicked after the rush of bubbles. The world around him felt heavy and wet. It wasn't long before he saw a shimmering ceiling, which he breached with his face.

He burst out of the waters of the bay, gasping for air. The sky above him was dark, rimmed to the west with the pinks and oranges of a normal sunset. Flat, fat chunks of ice floated around him. There was light in the city, stirring softly, and blinking. The thick stench of death had been replaced with the musk of the ocean. He gulped in the smell, coughing the water out of his lungs. His legs felt like sandbags, but they kicked when he told them to.

Treading in a circle, Robin saw the shoreline of Titans Island close at hand. The sand that had eaten him was gone. Water pooled in its place, forming a small cove that abutted the island's cliffs. As Robin dragged his arms through the water, he saw shapes climbing up the edge of the new cove.

Cyberion hunched on his hands and knees, belching seawater into the beach. Next to him, Bushido sat cross-legged, clutching his katana, his shaggy hair draped in his eyes. Both teens looked up as Robin staggered out of the water and collapsed next to them.

"Tim," Cyberion coughed.

Rolling onto his back, Robin said, "Vic. You guys okay?"

"I will live," Bushido said, and wrung the sleeves of his keikogi. "Whether or not that is 'okay' depends entirely on your opinion of me."

Cyberion's cough became a hoarse laugh. He punched Bushido in the arm, and said, "Have you ever answered anybody with less than ten words?"

Pulling the hair from his eyes, Bushido mulled over the question, and then said, "No."

The city lights mesmerized Cyberion. He watched them twinkle with an irrepressible smile, until he saw a flicker of movement out on the bay. With no power left to transform his eyes, he squinted. A tremendous spider was jumping from floe to floe.

"Gizmo," he murmured. Behind the villain's silhouette, he saw two more shapes, one big, and one small. Mammoth and Shimmer. The trio hopped across the ice, and then stopped on a large floe. A spark of pink light briefly lit the trio, and then sat up to rub her head.

Cyberion felt Jinx's eyes sweep toward the island. He nodded to her as he felt her gaze pause. Seconds later, the remnants of the Teen Tyrants hopped toward the city.

"What happened?" Robin asked. With incredible effort, he climbed onto his knees. The sand scraped him through the tears in his black tights. "The last thing I remember is us losing."

"Gar," said Cyberion. "He must have done it. He…" Realization struck him, and he looked out across the water. "Gar? Where is he?"

"Where are the girls?" Robin added. He and Cyberion scanned the icy waters. Too much of the sun had left, making each bobbing floe in the bay into a shadow.

Then they jumped as the water off the shore began to glow blue and green. The glow frothed, and then broke for Tek's crested helmet. Her armor glided toward shore, rising out of the surf, which pulled back to reveal Starfire beneath the heavy metal Titan. Starfire carried Tek to shore, and rested her gently upon the sand before pitching forward.

"Kory!" Robin lurched down to the surf. The act of dragging Starfire up from the water dropped him to his knees. He crouched over her and cupped her cheek.

His touched opened her eyes. A small gout of ocean spurted from her lips. She coughed, and sighed. "I saw…I saw Tek sinking," she said. "I went to…to get her, and…"

"You got her," he said, watching her breathe with a swell of relief. "She's safe."

Starfire's lips twitched. "You were concerned?" she said in a thin, teasing voice. "Tek should feel honored. You rarely show concern so openly."

His eyes fell. "I was…"

When his hand started to drop away from her face, her hand rose to keep it there. He looked back up, and saw her sober expression reaching out to him. She mouthed the words, "I know," and squeezed his fingers.

Bushido limped to Tek's motionless armor. His katana dropped into the surf, forgotten, as he knelt beside her. "Allison?" he said. His bleeding knuckles rapped on her visor.

"_Nngh_…stop it," Tek groaned tinnily. Her helmet tilted at him. The trim of her armor darkened, and then split apart into a flurry of grinding metal that slithered into the white froth beneath her. Her armor gone, Tek lay in the wet sand with the tide rushing over her back.

"Allie!" he cried, elated. He quickly sobered, settling his face into somber lines. "Good. I, um, would hate to see you lost after the battle. Drowning is hardly a heroic death. If you must die, you should do so with panache, with—"

"Stop talking," she groaned. Adding a tired glare to her face, she said, "And don't think I'm done yelling at you either. Jerk."

The corner of his mouth perked. "I look forward to your shrill admonishment, then."

They both looked up as Cyberion hovered above them. He stared across the bay, waiting. Each moment of silence that passed took its toll on his features. Cupping a hand to his mouth, he yelled, "Gar? Gar? Beast Boy?"

"Raven," Starfire sighed. With Robin's help, she sat up from the rolling tide, and shouted out across the waters. "Raven! Raven?"

A howl from down the beach snapped Cyberion's head around. Far away, where the edge of the sand disappeared behind the cliffs to curl around the island, he saw a flicker of motion in the sunset. He started to run, ignoring the leaden emptiness in his legs.

* * *

Beast Boy clawed across the sand. He didn't care that the sky had returned. He ignored the absence of the demon hordes, and the warm breeze rustling through his hair, and the distant cries of his friends. The still, white shape pressed into the beach just a few feet away was his whole world.

"Raven! Raven!" he cried.

Her oily hair was lavender again, and the ashen color of her skin had been bleached to a bone white. Her red, demonic brands were gone. So too were her cloak and clothes of shadow. In their stead, a glistening blackness kept Raven chaste. Beast Boy realized it was her blood that covered her.

She laid prone, her eyes opened to the sky. The Hand's hilt still stood in her chest, deep in a pool of her blood. When he grasped her shoulders, the hilt rolled off of her. Its blade had been shattered, leaving only a jagged stump still attached to the grip.

He listened for her heartbeat. She had none. Her skin felt cold and clammy where it wasn't sticky and black. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no," he said, and shook her. "Raven, no! Come on!"

She blinked, and gurgled, startling Beast Boy back. Black sludge rolled out of her mouth as she tried to gasp.

"Yes!" he cried, and grasped her hand. "That's it! Hang on, Raven! I'll go get—"

He tried to leave. Surprising strength filled her hand, dragging him close. Her eyes bugged as she struggled for breath. Her body shook with spasms as she choked, "Ga…Garf…"

He pressed her back into the sand. His hands fell over her open wound, as if he could push the lifeblood back into her frighteningly pale body. "I'm here. I'm here," he told her. Over his shoulder, he yelled, "Somebody, help!"

Her body wracked, sticking sand to her blood. Her eyes never left Beast Boy's. "It…It's…"

"Don't talk," he begged her. "Just hold on." Behind him, he screamed, "Help me!"

"…s'okay," she wheezed.

Tears streamed down his face. "No," he insisted. "No, it's not. It's not."

She gagged, and coughed, spackling Beast Boy's face with wet black flecks. Her voice was all but gone. "My b_hhh_…_mmm_my be_hhh_…"

"Raven," he whimpered, and cradled her head.

Her eyes brimmed. "…best _fff_friend…s_uh_…saved…_mm_me…"

Raven seized in his arms. She convulsed, curling up underneath him. Black bile spurted from her chalky lips. Her wet breaths quickened. They softened, and grew further apart. They stopped.

Her body slackened. Her eyes stared through him.

Beast Boy stared back. An unutterable stench filled the air as he laid her back in the sand. He stared, and listened to her silence, and ran his hands across her sticky, cold cheeks. He stared until the sight of her became a hot, wet blur, as the pounding footsteps of his friends stopped somewhere behind him.

He held the empty girl in his arms and sobbed while the last rays of the sun trickled below the horizon.

**To Be Concluded**


	39. Epilogue I: Going Home

**Teen Titans  
****Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9  
_

* * *

**Going Home**

The bay glimmered warm and clear under the late afternoon sun. There were no sails cutting across the waters. The trundling freighters so common to the harbor were absent. Though the ice had long since melted, the memory of it had emptied the bay. If was as if the unnatural floes of ice still cordoned the city from the ocean.

Scars remained in the city, radiating from its shoreline into its streets. The long, mottled furrows were festooned in construction orange and heavy machinery. Cranes stretched their arms to disassemble collapsed buildings, while exhausted rescue teams stood poised to pull the shattered statues that were once people out from under the rubble. Traffic crawled around the reclamation with crowded uncertainty as life slowly returned to normal.

Cyberion leaned in the doorframe of the Tower's entrance hall as he considered the Titans' scars. There was plenty of hurt to share between them, but the one that hurt the most lay just outside their door.

_"Raven was one of the toughest people I knew. She never talked much, but she always said a lot…even if most of it was about how obnoxious her roommates were," Cyberion said. The corner of his mouth twitched._

_Then he sobered. "But as tough as she acted, she could never hide just how much she really cared. She would snark, and she would complain, but she always backed you, whether you were charging into a fight, or just feeling down. She was my friend. I wish I had told her what that meant to me. I just hope she knew."_

A circle of stone had been smoothed at the end of the path from the Tower's entrance. The Titan sigil was carved into the earth, half a dozen meters across. A short, square monolith stood at the circle's far edge. Its black marble glistened, polished until it was a mirror. Three short lines had been inscribed on the monolith's face.

**RAVEN  
****A TEEN TITAN  
****A TRUE FRIEND**

Except Cyberion couldn't read the inscription from where he stood. He only knew it because he had been the one to laser it into the marble. At the moment, the inscription was blocked by a pair of sagging shoulders and a bowed green head.

Cyberion felt a presence appear beside him in the doorway. He didn't need to look to know who it was. "I know you're probably about to jet off," said Cyberion. "I just wanted to say 'thanks.' For what you said."

_"Raven hated me. I confess, in many ways, I returned her sentiment in kind. Raven was a monster. Her nature was to destroy._

_"But Raven strived every day to rise above that nature. She was not satisfied with what she was. She wanted to be more. And she was. To her last breath, Raven proved that any one of us may become what we want most to be…even if just for one brief, glorious moment._

_"Death is lighter than a feather. Duty is heavier than a mountain. Raven bore the weight of both on her shoulders. I respect her for that. I always respected her, and admired her. And I shall miss her."_

"I said nothing that was untrue," Bushido replied, "and nothing less than what I owed her. And yes, I had planned on leaving."

Cyberion sniffed. "No surprise there. You never really liked being part of a team, did you, Ryuko?"

Bushido set aside his heavy duffle bag and leaned opposite Cyberion on the towering doorframe. His swollen eye had faded into a Technicolor shiner. His bleached wooden sheath was notably absent from his waist, poking instead from the top of his duffle. Folding his arms, he said, "I am ill-suited to take any part in a team. My methods work for me, and seldom for others. I fight best alone."

"Well, that's a load of shit." Cyberion's offhanded comment earned him a look of surprise from Bushido. "Just look at all you've accomplished in the last year. You've faced down super villains, robot menaces, magical body-swapping, alien invaders, and a living god. You really think you could have karate chopped your way out of all that by yourself?"

The question gave Bushido pause. He shrugged, and said, "Perhaps not. But all the same, it is time for me to go, and long past time for you to be rid of me."

"Sure," said Cyberion. "Oh, but, before you go, maybe you could help me with this problem I've been having."

"I will help as I am able," Bushido said with careful neutrality.

"Good, good. Good stuff. So," said Cyberion, "you know that the nearest major airport is in Sacramento, right? It's the closest place to get a decent flight to anywhere."

Bushido nodded. "Jump City is many things, but an aeronautical hub it is not."

"Right. Well, Sacramento International is about two hours away in traffic. And once the world ended, with all those dead cars on the road, there's no way you could drive back. You'd have to hoof it, which would take the better part of a day. No way could somebody jog that kind of distance in time to make it back here for, say, an apocalyptic battle royal."

"…ah," said Bushido.

Cyberion fixed him with a stare. "You had all the time in the world to get out of the city and on your merry way. The only way you could have still been anywhere near enough to join the fight is if you had never left."

Bushido whirled on Cyberion. "You must say nothing to the others," he snapped.

His tone raised Cyberion's eyebrows. "Why? As far as I'm concerned, this is the first piece of evidence ever against you being a total douche bag," he said.

Bushido's chin fell to his chest. "Because I may as well have actually left. When the moment of truth came, I faltered. I failed you, and I failed myself. I would rather the others remember my failure as I do, and my arrival to the fight as having been circumstantial. It may as well have been."

The two teens lapsed into uncomfortable silence. They watched Beast Boy's motionless vigil on the grave until Tek's strained voice turned them around.

"Hey," Tek said, and sniffed. "I found it."

_"Raven was…she was…she was mean to me at first. But that was only because I kept going crazy and threatening everybody," Tek wheezed through her tears. "Once I got that under control, we were okay. Sometimes she would even be nice to me._

_"And Raven was pretty. And she cared about us, somewhere deep, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep down. And it's not fair that she's gone. She was going to have a baby, and finally be happy, and we were all supposed to be together. And…"_

_Tek wanted to say more, but her voice failed her. So she let her sobbing finish the thought._

"It was right where you said it would be," Tek said. She lugged a long metal box across the Tower's sprawling entryway. Her eyes were bloodshot, with heavy bags hanging underneath them. But she forced a tired smile across her face as she handed the box to Cyberion.

Cyberion pulled at the flat box's seam. "First thing I brought over from the Compound," he said.

Tek looked back across the hall. The Tyrants had left it empty and in pitiful repair, like much of the Tower. "Do we really have to move back here?" she whined. "The Compound is so—"

"The Compound's gone, kid," Cyberion said, cutting her off. "Besides, Blackfire left a nice, big hole in it when she broke out. We're better off where we are."

"…but everything's broken here," insisted Tek. "It'll need fixing. And if you…if you…"

Cyberion stopped, and glanced up from the box to meet her puffy look. With an understanding smile, he said, "The city had every right to kick us out of the neighborhood, Allie. They're scared, and hurt. They didn't see what happened with Trigon. All they know is, they lost a day, and wound up with a frozen harbor, a lot of collateral damage, and too many crushed…statues."

"People are capable of great and terrible things when motivated by fear," Bushido said.

Tek sniffed, and swiped her face with her wrist. She and Cyberion both knew she wasn't upset about losing the Compound, just as they both knew she couldn't change the way things were with tears and pleas. So she rounded her scowl on Bushido, and gestured to his duffle. "So, are you finally leaving, ass-face? You running away again?" she asked.

Bushido met her scowl with a passive expression. His black eye twitched at the girl responsible for giving it to him. "Yes. I am leaving. And I am unlikely to ever return," he told her.

"Is that a fact?" she said.

"Yes," he answered, and spread his hands. "So if you have something to say to me, I suggest you do so now."

"Fine," Tek snapped.

The force of Tek's hug slammed him back into the doorframe. He lost his breath as she crushed him in her embrace. Her face pressed into his neck, tickling him with her sigh.

"You are such a jerk," Tek whimpered into his hair. "You're a selfish, lying, cheating jerk. And I'm so glad you came back. I was scared I'd never get to see you again. Thank you for coming back."

They stood together in their awkward embrace. Bushido eased his hands onto her hips, pulling her away. His astonished expression drew a smile across her chin as he murmured, "You really mean that, don't you?"

She brushed his brow smooth. "I'm your friend, Ry. Nobody gets to say otherwise. Not even me," she told him.

"…thank you," he murmured, too stunned to say anything else.

Tek chuckled and patted his chest. "C'mon, Ry-guy. Don't look so serious. You got everything you wanted. You got your sword-mojo back, and now you get to go back to your own life."

"You could at least pretend to be changing careers," Cyberion added. "At least until you're on the plane."

"Everything's coming up Bushido. Isn't that worth a smile?" Tek asked.

Bushido took her hands and gently lifted them off his chest. His gaze fell. "I can understand your confusion, given my spectacular assault on the demon lord. But you are mistaken. I am Bushido no longer."

Cyberion shared a confused look with Tek. "But those fireworks you were throwing at Trigon—" said Cyberion.

"—was my ancestors' sense of self-preservation," Bushido explained. "They sensed their imminent destruction, and granted me a temporary boon. They have apparently long since decided that I was unfit to continue in their stead."

The smirk was crushed from Tek's face. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

Bushido shrugged. "Once I broke my oath when I… Well, it is all in the past. And I suppose not all is lost. The old men have granted me a chance at redemption."

"A strict regiment of blade polishing and sheath dusting?" Cyberion suggested.

"A quest," Bushido said, smiling slightly. "I am to find the next Bushido. If I find the blade's next wielder, my transgressions will be cleansed, and my place among my ancestors will be assured."

Tek offered him an insincere smile. "That sounds super, Ry," she said. "You're gonna be the best soul in there someday. I just know it."

"And so," Bushido said, sweeping his duffle to his shoulder with a dramatic gesture, "I set out to scour the world in search of a worthy soul to whom I may bequeath this weighty gift."

As he stepped forward, Cyberion blocked his way. "Sure," the looming Titan said, and nodded. "Or, just a thought: you could not do that, and stay here instead."

Bushido blinked, and set his duffle on the ground. "Excuse me?" he said.

Offering a shrug, Cyberion said, "I don't know if you noticed, but we get around a lot. And for as many kooks, losers, psychopaths, and Doctor Lights as we've met, we've also found some of the best, worthiest people I've ever known."

He opened the metal box in his hands. Inside the box sat a single piece of paper, which bore the words "This I Vow," and five paragraphs after. The bottom of the paper was a mess of signatures.

"Most of those people's names are right there at the bottom," Cyberion said as Tek lifted the paper out of its box. "I think your name should be there too."

Bushido stared. "That is the Titan Charter. You…you wish for me to sign it?"

"It's like the kid said. We're friends," Cyberion said. "Maybe I don't like who you were. Doubt I ever will. Doubt I'll ever like your pompous ass, really. But you've had our backs through thick and thin. Even if your sword doesn't think you're good enough to be their Bushido, I think you're more than good enough to be ours."

Tek presented the dumbfounded swordsman with their charter. She pressed a pen into his hand. "Stick around, Ry. We want you here with us. And we could help you with your quest, if you want."

When Bushido took the charter, Tek turned around, and pointed at her back until Bushido pressed the sheet of paper to her skin suit. She felt his name join the jumble of signatures, and grinned.

"Great!" she chirped, and turned to snatch the charter from him. She gave the sheet to Cyberion, and then grabbed Bushido's hand. "Come on! Let's go find you a room upstairs. Oh! We could be neighbors again! Won't that be awesome?"

She dragged Bushido back through the entrance, nearly bowling over Robin. The Teen Wonder sidled around them and caught himself against the doorframe, glancing back as they traipsed through the hall.

"I see those two made up. Ryuko is staying, then?" Robin asked.

Cyberion placed the charter back in its security box. "I think he'll stay," he said to the beltless, capeless teen. "And I guess you're leaving."

Lacking any replacements, the lenses were still missing from Robin's mask. The flicker of his iceberg blue eyes betrayed his hesitation as he nodded. "I am. I have to get back to…to, uh…"

His gaze was drawn to the grave, and the shapeshifter atop it. Beast Boy had become a second headstone. As far as Robin could tell, Beast Boy hadn't so much as shifted since the morning. He was immovable, silent, despite every effort by his friends to convince him to leave.

For a moment, as Robin stared, the island landscape vanished. Raven's grave became a hospital bed, which held a golden, unmoving shape. Beast Boy transformed as well, into a pale, pathetic, shaven, wheelchair-bound wretch who sobbed at the bedside.

_"A dear friend was taken from us this week. I know everyone here feels her loss. Our lives are better for our having known her, and worse for her absence. But while we're mourning, we need to remember one thing above all else…_

"_Raven was a hero in every sense of the word," Robin said. He bowed his head. "She dedicated her entire life to the fight. She believed in the fight. She believed in good. She believed in people, in humanity, enough to sacrifice herself to give them a second chance._

_Robin's voice grew thick. "We can't waste that second chance. Not any more."_

"I wish it had been me," Robin murmured. "It should have been me."

Cyberion shook his head. "Don't do that, man. You can't do that to yourself. I've been there, trust me."

"Do you remember what Raven said? That one of us would make the ultimate sacrifice to stop Trigon? And that it wouldn't be her? But it was." Robin sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "It feels like we failed her. Like she got cheated."

It was a long moment before Cyberion answered. "Maybe she did. But she wasn't the one that made that sacrifice. Gar was."

Robin jolted. "What?"

Nodding to the circle, Cyberion said, "World on the line? I like to think that I could do what Raven did, and take that bullet. I'd be scared as hell, but I'd do it. I think Raven would have too. But she couldn't…"

"But—"

"She needed Gar to do it for her," Cyberion said. He blew a sigh through pursed lips. "He made that sacrifice for her. He loved her, and he killed her. I don't think I could do what he did in a million years."

Frowning, Robin said, "She was our friend, Vic. We all loved her."

Cyberion looked back out at Beast Boy, and shook his head again. "He loved her, Tim," he said firmly.

Robin's frown slowly unfurled. He turned his gaze back to the grave, and stared at Beast Boy. It was several minutes before he could wrap his head around the concept Cyberion was trying to explain to him.

"Holy hell," Robin murmured.

"It was going on for a while," Cyberion said. "After Dominic, I think. I'm not sure when he figured it out, but…he knew. I know he did. And he killed her."

"Did…did she…?" asked Robin.

Cyberion shrugged. "No clue. You know how hard she was to read. Six months ago, I would've laughed myself into a coma at the idea. But things change. They changed."

Robin sighed. "Holy hell," he said again. "I really have been gone, haven't I, Vic?"

"Too long, Wonder Boy," Cyberion said, and managed a smile. "Way too long. But you'll have plenty of time to get reacquainted when you're head honcho around here again."

The words took an extra second to register with Robin. He jerked his head around, and said, "Wait. What?"

Leaning back on the wall, Cyberion said to Robin, "I already talked it over with everybody else. I'm leaving, and I want you in charge while I'm gone."

Words floundered in Robin's mouth. "But why?" he said at last.

Cyberion clenched his fingers, and watched the tendons jump in his arms. A metallic sheen rippled through his skin. He felt the soft buzz of his power cell against his beating heart.

"Look at me, Tim. I don't know what the hell I am anymore. I don't know what I can do. I don't even know if these micro-machines will decide to quit on me like they did on Smith." A haunted expression darkened Cyberion's face. "What if that happens in the middle of a fight? Something like that endangers everybody, not just me. A thing like that could put more headstones in our yard. I won't let that happen because of me.

"No, man. I have to figure this out. I can't do that and run the show here at the same time. I need some space, and some time. But most of all," Cyberion said, his voice quieting, "I need to know that someone…that 'you're' here taking care of everybody."

Robin balked. "Why me, Vic? I don't have the rosiest of track records."

Cyberion sighed impatiently. "Look, I could remind you about how you built this team in the first place, or how this is what you were born to do. We both know I'd be right. But Tim…you need this. You do."

"Vic…"

A sharp gesture cut the Teen Wonder off before he could speak. "No," Cyberion said. "You went a little nuts after what went down last year. I gotta give you that one, considering. But dude, enough. You gotta bust out of this mid-hero crisis of yours. If you keep up these lone wolf, devil-may-care, gung-ho shenanigans, we're gonna be planting you out there too. Is that what you want?" he snapped.

When Robin didn't answer, Cyberion rested a hand on his shoulder. "They need you here. I need you here. And you need to be here, doing what you do best," Cyberion told him in a gentler voice.

Robin blinked hard, and cleared his throat. He met Cyberion's gaze with a weak smile. "Our base blew up on my watch. I hardly think that makes me the best."

"Yeah? Well, I built a big, shiny target in the middle of a populated area," Cyberion grumbled. "And then I got us evicted from it."

"I liked the Compound," Robin told him. "I like the idea that we can be right there for people, living with them instead of apart from them. It's noble. It's just not…feasible."

Cyberion clapped Robin on the shoulder, and then wandered back into the Tower. Solitude settled over Robin in the moments that followed. The Teen Wonder wore it as he would a heavy coat. He watched Beast Boy mourn in silence, and fell into the same spell that gripped the shapeshifter.

It was several minutes more before Robin felt the air rustle behind him. A new presence made the floor tremble lightly underfoot. "Hello, Tim," he heard a soft voice speak.

"_I once thought Raven very different from me. She cloaked herself in a façade of prickliness and indifference, in addition to her literal cloak. Though we were teammates, I thought we would never connect as anything more. I thought her incapable of such connection._

"_But in very little time, Raven showed me the error of my assumptions. She cared as deeply for me as I did for her. Though her path and her ways differed from mine, she possessed a passion for life as vibrant as any I have seen. And on rare occurrences of great luck, she would share that passion with me in the simplest of gestures, or even just in her company._

"_Raven died for us. I will not weep for her passing. I will celebrate her life, and remember her always for what she was: difficult at times, and a hero always, and a friend first, and…and a dear sister," Starfire said, choking at the last words._

"Kory," Robin said.

"Vic has spoken with you, yes? Will you stay?"

Starfire stood close, making his heart race. The scent of her hair drifted over his shoulder, making it torture not to turn around. But he gritted his teeth, and kept his eyes locked out toward the ocean.

In the days since the battle, there had been few opportunities for long talks. Relocations, explanations, and overwhelming grief stole their time away, leaving them with only spare moments to glance at each other, and then turn away in embarrassment. Now that life had quieted again, now that he was staying, they had all the time in the world.

The very thought made Robin's heart pound even harder.

"I don't know if I should," he said.

She was quiet for a moment more. Then she asked, "He is still out there?"

He nodded out to the memorial circle. "He hasn't moved since this morning. What do you think we should do?"

"Do nothing," said Starfire. Her hand brushed his shoulder, sending a bolt of electricity through him. "He mourns in his own way. You can only stand by him until he asks more of you."

When her hand left him, Robin shuddered, and ached. He knew he couldn't put the question off any longer. "And what about us? What should 'we' do?" he asked the air in front of him.

Her hesitation lasted a lifetime. "I have thought long on the subject of 'us,' " she admitted. "And I have decided that I need to do much more thinking on the subject before I can answer such a question."

Robin felt his innards clench. "What do you mean?"

Starfire's light touch turned him to face her. She wore a weak smile, and a black swatch draped over the shoulder strap of her armor. "I have spent the last year in slumber and in denial. My failure to save you drove me away from myself. I denied my feelings—all of my feelings—because I thought they made me weak. But it was my own faithlessness that crippled me. I stripped myself of my honor and my strength. I hid from myself, until I became a shell that I hated."

"You did save me, Kory," he insisted. "I was…I was out of control, and you stopped me. I was the one who failed."

"Tim, please," Starfire began.

Robin shook his head. "No, just listen. Listen. What happened to you, what I did…that wasn't the alien, Kory. That was me. That was Robin. He—I—said all of those things, and hurt everybody I cared about.

"I took off the mask because I couldn't deal with that. But when I did, there was nothing underneath. It was like being Robin burned away everything under the costume, and when I took it off…there was nothing."

He choked, and swallowed. "I was the one who was hiding, Kory. I hid from all that. And when Conner dug me up, I hid behind the mask again. I thought I could just go through the motions until…until things were set right…" he said shakily.

Starfire's concern drew taut across her face. "You have been seeking the Hak-Shal. The warrior's end."

"It should have been me in that bed," Robin said, his voice a ghost. "It should have been me in the ground out there. But it wasn't. And I just thought that if I kept going and going until it finally caught up with me, it would somehow be okay."

He looked up. "But then I was crashing, and I saw you across the bay. I was going to die, and all I wanted to do was see your face again."

With quavering words, Starfire said, "You cannot make me your only reason for living, Tim. You cannot lay that responsibility at my feet. It is unfair."

"It's not like that. Kory," he said, and took her limps hands into his. "When I saw you, really saw you, I realized that I wanted to be…alive. A person! I want to put something under this mask, so when I take it off, I can be the kind of man that you…that you wouldn't kick out of your room in the morning," he said, and reddened.

She stared into his earnest blue eyes, and then said, "Tim…I am leaving."

His fingers slid out from hers. "What? Why?" he stammered.

Starfire wrung her empty hands. "There is still so much I must think about, for myself, and for us. For even the possibility of 'us.' And I must do so alone."

"Kory, you can't…"

Her gaze grew heavy with tears. "I am leaving today. I came out here to say goodbye to you. And you are making it very difficult to do so," she said in a thick voice.

Robin swallowed again. His eyes became hot. "Where will you go?" he asked.

She hugged her arms. Her hand brushed the swatch hanging from her shoulder. Taking the black fabric, she began kneading it in her nervous grasp. "I am unsure. Far away. Away from Earth, I think."

"Away from… For how long?" he asked.

"Until I collect myself."

He bit his lip, and blinked harder. "Kory, when you were gone, it was… 'I' was awful. I'm a wreck. How am I supposed to do this without you?"

Starfire looked up slowly. She tugged her lips into a half-smile, and brushed the hair away from his mask. "Keep the faith that I could not. Believe that I will come back."

Robin scoffed, and looked away. "I'm so sure you'll leave the endless wonders of the galaxy to come back to the planet that spawned reality television and the pizza bagel." He tried to sound sarcastic while his stomach collapsed into a cluster of knots.

Starfire pulled at the swatch in her hands. She stepped close to Robin and swept the fabric around him. It fastened to his collar with her deft touch, becoming his cape once more. She smoothed the cape at his shoulders, and said, "I like both pizza and bagels. I like the shows with the dancing contests."

Brushing his cheeks, she added, "And you make me fly."

Her head tilted forward. Their eyes closed, and their lips met. Starfire lifted his hands to her hips, and then wove her fingers through his hair. She savored every sensation of him—the softness of his lips, the smell of his sweat, the taste of him.

Then, gasping, she left his embrace. The look of shock on his face as she slid out from under his gloves almost broke her. She floated backwards into the air, her cheeks glistening, her hand clasped over her mouth. Forcing her gaze skyward, Starfire flew up into the air without another word.

Robin watched her become a red dot that dwindled into nothing. He stared at the sky long after she had gone, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. When he turned, Cyberion was smiling at him, with Tek and Bushido waiting behind him.

"You okay?" Cyberion asked.

The wrinkled cape bunched in Robin's hands. He let the fabric swing free again, and answered, "I'll let you know."

Cyberion nodded, and sighed. He turned to the trio collectively, and said, "Okay, guys. Take it easy. No house parties while I'm gone."

"It's not a party without you, Vic," Tek said with a thin smile.

An equally thin smile answered hers. Cyberion lingered a second too long, meeting his friends' uncertain stares. At last, he turned around, and started walking.

Tek lifted her hand to stop him the moment he turned. Her fingers curled, and she bit her lip. "Vic?" she blurted. When Cyberion stopped to look back, she felt the blood drain out of her face. Her heart thundered, and her mouth dried. "Call us sometime. Okay?" she stammered.

He nodded, and winked. "I will, kid. Take care of these guys for me," he said, before he started out again.

A bitter breath emptied Tek. She sagged, and sighed. Then she felt a stare pressing into the side of her head. Bushido cocked his eyebrow at her expectantly.

Tek groaned. "Oh, the hell with it."

Her pounding footfalls made Cyberion stop again. He turned around and caught Tek against his chest as she wrapped herself around him. His words of surprise were shoved back down as her mouth crashed into his.

Tek kissed him, eagerly, clumsily. Her hands grasped his smooth pate as she pulled back with a gasp. She smiled at his astonishment, and whispered, "Come back soon."

Uncoiling her legs from his waist, Tek sashayed back to the Tower's doors. She kept her head straight to hide her beet red face and beaming grin from Cyberion. The askance look from Robin and the smug smirk from Bushido made her wipe her face blank with a clearing of her throat.

"So, Bird-Boss," she said, businesslike, her blush receding. "What's the plan? What do we do now?"

Robin touched his lips as he looked to the sky. "We keep going," he decided.

"Such an undertaking will be no mean feat," Bushido said. "The Titans are hardly what they once were. If I'm not mistaken, three-quarters of their current membership has been fired or quit at one point or another. Hardly an auspicious new beginning, I think."

A smirk tweaked Tek's lips as she watched Cyberion walking across the memorial circle. "The Titans are a big deal, Ry. Bigger than all of us. But they'd just disappear without us, too. So it's up to people like us to keep it going. A loner, a killer, a basket case, and…" She trailed off as she saw Cyberion pause over Beast Boy.

Bushido said what they were all thinking. "…and a ghost."

Drawing his scalloped cape around him, Robin said, "Things will get better. And they'll get worse, too. We'll just have to handle it one day at a time. Together."

He led Tek and Bushido back into the Tower. Cyberion's augmented hearing tracked their fading footsteps until he felt he could risk a glance back. He watched the empty doorway, and brushed his tingling lips. His brow furrowed.

Then he looked back down and felt his stomach plunge. "Hey, Gar," he said.

_The gathering drew silent as all eyes fell to Beast Boy. Their confessional circle around the monument had come to his turn. But he did not step forward. He did not look up at them. His eyes remained on Raven's name in stone, as they had since the Titans had come to her grave._

_His friends waited for him to say something. Their probing eyes made him want to retch. They expected him to sum Raven up in a trite speech. They wanted some heartfelt confession from him. Deep down, he knew they meant well, and that they were hurting too._

_But he just couldn't care._

_"The people we care about never stay," Beast Boy mumbled. Then he sat upon the grave and stared at the ground, ignoring the eyes of his friends._

Cyberion touched Beast Boy's shoulder. The shapeshifter tensed, but that was all. He barely stirred. As he did, Cyberion saw something red glistening in Beast Boy's palm. It took Cyberion a moment to recognize the object as Raven's clasp. Its message had been spent, leaving the gem dark and silent.

"I'm headed out now, Gar," Cyberion said. "I'm not sure when I'll be back. But if you need anything, or you want to talk, you call me. Day or night. You'll always be able to reach me, seeing as how I'm my own phone and all."

Beast Boy didn't answer. The fingers wrapped around Raven's clasp whitened with tension.

Sighing, Cyberion pulled back his hand. "I'm sorry, Gar. I'm so sorry. Call me, okay?" he said.

With heavy steps, Cyberion left the circle. He kept looking over his shoulder, hoping to see green eyes looking back at him. But he gave up as he reached the edge of the island's cliffs.

_Sarah_, he thought, _are we ready?_

The Sarah Simm's voice answered in his thoughts. _Power levels are optimum. Transformative capability is on standby._ After a brief pause, she asked, _What do you intend to do now?_

_I thought we could head into the city. We could get some dinner, and maybe catch the latest piece of Oscar bait. Figure out who I am and what the hell I'm supposed to do now. Decide if I should grow my hair out again. Just the usual soul-searching stuff._

There was another pause, and then Sarah projected, _May I access your sensory input during the movie? I have accessed your memories of cinema, and would very much like to experience one for myself, without the inaccuracies of your perceptions, such as they are. They seem…fun._

Cyberion laughed out loud. "Stick with me, Sarah. Maybe we can figure out who you are too, while we're at it," he said.

His form became metal, and manifested jets, which carried him off the island in a rush of noisy heat. The roar faded a moment later, leaving the island alone with the crash of the tide and the soft touch of the wind.

Beast Boy didn't feel the wind or hear the tide. He was lost to the rumbling in his stomach and the tingling slumber in his legs. His sore, dry eyes were stuck to the tilled earth beneath him.

Time passed without him. He didn't know what to do with it anymore. Every time he wanted to reach out to his friends, he saw Raven's pleading eyes as their spark was snuffed by his own hand. Every time he wanted to eat, he could smell nothing but Raven's blood, and it was all he could do not to vomit. When he slept, he heard her choked pleas as she died in his arms.

So he sat, and did nothing.

Something fluttered on top of the monument behind him. He tasted the air, and smelled nothing new. Then tiny claws began scraping against the stone somewhere above him. The skittering continued until Beast Boy looked up.

A bird sat perched on top of Raven's monument. It looked down at Beast Boy, clicking its beak at him. It wasn't any kind of bird that Beast Boy recognized. Its feathers were an impossible shade of black. It tilted its head, staring at Beast Boy with lustrous eyes.

Beast Boy held his breath. For one brief second, he felt the lead trickle out of his bones, making him light again. The vice around his innards vanished. The fog in his head vanished, giving way to crystal clarity. For just an instant, Beast Boy felt free.

But the feeling wasn't his.

The bird hopped once, and then jumped into the wind. Its talons brushed the top of Beast Boy's hair. Beast Boy lurched to his feet and braced his unsteady legs with a hand to Raven's monument. His gaze followed the bird until it disappeared against the backdrop of the city skyline.

Beast Boy watched the sky for an hour after that, even though he knew the bird would not return. His hand clenched hard, and he felt the clasp digging into his palm. Looking down, he turned the scratched opal over in his hand.

His cheeks shone with fresh tears as he set the clasp on top of her monument. The marble felt cold against his fingertips. "…okay," he whispered.

And he left the grave, trudging back to the Tower. He felt heavy again, and sick, and tired. But with each step he took, it got a little easier.

* * *


	40. Epilogue II: Leave a Rose

**Teen Titans  
Adaptation**

_By Cyberwraith9_

* * *

**Leave a Rose**

Fresh air teased her nose. It was a subtle change in the mustiness, one she would not have noticed had she not expected it. Further down the rope, outside the reach of her lamp, the tepid darkness became drier.

Rose Wilson grinned, and repelled deeper into the vertical shaft. The old mine had been tapped out a generation ago. Its rotted boards had kept Rose out as effectively as had the warnings of the local clerks who had sold her the spelunking gear strapped to her back. Their stories of strange goings-on up in the foothills had only spurred her up the mountainside.

Her canteens thumped against her leg as she pushed off the rough wall, sliding another four meters down the rope. The incandescent lamp painted her ponytail gold, and dug mottled shadows out of the rock face. Rose watched the rock flicker past her, scarcely aware of anything except the pounding excitement in her chest.

"Grant can say whatever he wants," she murmured to herself. The echo of her voice danced around her between the periodic _thump_ of her feet. "Those do-gooders can say whatever they want. Mom can say whatever she wants. But I know."

Sweat beaded on her face. It might have been the exertion, or her excitement, but Rose thought she felt the chill of the mineshaft lessen the deeper she went. The warming of the dry air made her smile grow.

"Dead men don't arrange for bulk shipments of sensitive equipment, Slade," she said. "Dead men don't pay for those shipments through a series of ridiculous shell corporations. And dead men definitely don't have their shipments routed in circles until they're practically lost, and then delivered to the same sleepy little town."

Her feet struck bottom. Carefully, Rose disengaged herself from her line, and then unclasped the lamp from her shoulder. She held the light up to take in her surroundings. Her smile faded.

The floor of the shaft had been tamped smooth, and was littered with loose rock and the rusted bolts from a pulley elevator long since removed. Above her, a circle of daylight now no larger than a dime marked where she had begun her descent. And before her lay the entrance to the main gallery, which was supposed to lead straight into the mountain.

But where the open gallery should have been, there was instead a mound of rock. The gallery's mouth was packed with rough-hewn boulders. Smaller stones and compacted dust filled the gaps between boulders to form a perfect seal. The collapse appeared to be decades old at least, and was completely impassable.

"No," Rose gasped, and ran her gloves across the gritty face of the collapse. Her fingertips dug between the boulders, foolishly looking for give in the interlocking rocks, and finding none. She pounded against the rock, howling with every blow. "No! Damn it! Damn it! God! Damn! It!"

She felt her eyes sting with wet heat, and pulled back from the wall. Her hand masked her tears from the empty mineshaft. A single, choked sob burst from her lips, and echoed in the warm, dry air.

She had been so certain. The technology that she had tracked would have been sensitive to moisture, requiring dehumidifiers. Unnaturally dry, warm air this far below the surface was a dead giveaway for one of Slade's lairs. Or so she had thought.

This had been her last lead. She had been certain she would find at least a glimpse of concrete proof in this last-ditch effort. Now she wondered if her mind had simply fabricated a trail of leads from nothing at all out of her sheer desperation. Now it seemed as though Grant had been right all along.

"You were supposed to be here," she whispered, and sucked a breath through her teeth. Her cheeks grew slick under her hand. "I was supposed to have a dad. It's not fair. You were supposed to be…"

A soft buzzing noise cut her whimper short. She uncovered her eyes, and held her breath at the sight of the gallery collapse. The rocks blocking her from the tunnel wavered, as though a rolling sheet of water washed between her and the boulders. As she held her hand out toward the wavering rocks, she felt temperature spike through her glove.

A smile pushed her tears aside. She wiped her face on her dusty sleeve, and said, "A hard-light wall. You clever son of a bitch. I knew it. I knew it!" Slipping free from her pack's shoulder straps, she let her equipment fall behind her as she raced headlong into the sputtering wall.

The photonic-electromagnetic matrix pushed against her skin like a still, thick wind. Closing her eyes, Rose swam through the false boulders until she staggered out their opposite side. A long, wide, dark corridor loomed around her, lit only by periodic beacons along the length of the walls.

It was the mine's main gallery, the tunnel she had expected to find. Its walls had been polished into perfectly smooth stone. Rose felt a clean, level floor beneath her tentative steps as she groped through the dimness. The holographic collapse behind her stopped flickering, and solidified.

"You wanted me to find you! You wanted to see if I could!" Rose listened to her exclamations resonate through the gallery. The more excited she grew, the faster her hesitant gait became. "This whole chase was a big test, wasn't it? This is all one—"

As she drew to the end of the gallery, a bank of lights high overhead clapped, overwhelming her open pupils with illumination. She swept her arm over her eyes, wincing as more and more light flooded the mine. Where her feet skidded to rest, she felt open air beneath her toes.

She backpedaled, and squinted. Then she gasped.

The gallery had ended several meters behind her. Rose stood on a rock outcropping, which overlooked a tremendous chamber that loomed below her and above her. The sense of vertigo Rose felt as she peered up to the distant ceiling and its clusters of industrial lights made her wonder if the entire mountain had somehow been hollowed to make the chamber.

The outcropping upon which she stood was one of a dozen concentric rings that lined the sides of the chamber from bottom to top. Large machines dotted the outcroppings. Smaller shapes milled around the large machines. They were humanoid, but not human, which was as much as Rose could discern through the blur of her watering eyes.

Only one feature of the cavern was large and distinct enough for Rose's eyes to decipher was a flat video screen built into the wall across from where she stood. The building-sized monitor glowed with a still image of a triangular black skull bracketed in black stripes on a red field.

"…one hell of a secret base," Rose finished in a murmur. "Holy shit."

The video screen blinked, making Rose jump. By the time her feet touched ground again, the image had resolved itself into an even stranger sight. Two figures were framed on either side of the enormous screen. Standing between them was a metal pedestal, which wore that same black skull pattern from the screen's previous image across its front. A pink, pulsing brain sat beneath glass atop the pedestal.

"_Well, well,_" purred the figure on the left side of the screen. She was an elegant woman with alabaster skin and a full figure pressed tightly into red vinyl. Her raven hair swung over one eye as she smirked down at Rose. "_So this is the 'son' you've been waiting for?_"

The figure on the opposite side of the screen grunted. It—He?—was a silverback gorilla, who had to crouch to remain in frame. He wore a red beret, which bore the triangular skull emblem, and a bandoleer that wove into his grayish fur. When the gorilla spoke, Rose stumbled backward in surprise. "_Hardly a son at all, I think,_" he said, his voice thick with European stilting.

A third voice, synthesized and monotone, joined the conversation. It took Rose an extra second to realize that it was the disembodied brain speaking. "_Mallah raises a valid concern. This deviation from plan must be addressed, Wilson._"

As Rose backpedaled to the mouth of the gallery, she felt her back strike something hard. A black-clad arm encircled her waist, pinning her arms to her sides as it lifted her off the ground. Rose yelped and kicked, and felt her heels bounce off of armored shins.

A second arm snaked from behind her. This one carried a large hypodermic needle. The green liquid inside the needle's chamber glowed in the bright light. Rose struggled harder, and screamed.

But she quelled as a smooth, deep voice spoke through her to the distant screen. "Patience," the voice admonished the menagerie of the bizarre watching Rose. "Where you see deviation, I see new opportunity."

Rose felt her body slacken as she listened to the voice's echo. "D-Daddy?" she whispered.

"The plan simply requires some revision."

The hypodermic needle plunged through Rose's left eye. She screamed as the searing liquid spilled through her brain.

* * *

A black bird flew over the city. It passed without sound over rooftops and darted between skyscrapers. A sharp updraft lifted it high, spreading the world out beneath its wings. It looked down, and it saw.

Buildings in ruin were being excavated by lumbering machines. Orange vests hived throughout the damage. The wounds left by Trigon's invasion closed slowly, but the streets were slow to fill so soon after. The people were still afraid.

An ambulance wailed and flashed through empty roads. The bird sensed the woman lying in the back. Her pain radiated into the sky. She would not survive the ride.

A man with a bulb on his chest blasted his way out of a bank. His laughter pealed. His powers flared. He scattered the people around him, absconding with jewels and money.

A grizzled cop tugged a fedora over his white hair as his patrol car raced after the bulb-man. More cars followed his, filled with more men too tired to be scared, like the old man. Determination trailed from their cars like a fine mist left in their wake.

Deeper in the city, an overgrown, abandoned churchyard soaked in the late sun. Seven teenagers lazed among the broken statuary, watching a bevy of grubby, gleeful children dart around in an incomprehensible game that had started as hide-and-seek. A quiet, prideful kinship connected the mismatched teens.

Downtown, a young man walked alone. His white suit morphed into street clothes. His laced his hands behind his bald head, and talked to a woman who wasn't there. Uncertainty welled in his chest alongside a heavy sorrow and a sense of excitement for a future he had yet to write.

All across the city, the bird saw moments of hope and of loss. It saw fear, joy, hate, love, all teeming together in a patterned chaos. The feelings clung to its wings until they grew too heavy to flap. Slowly, the bird drifted down between the buildings. An empty alley waited below.

The bird folded its wings, and dove. It rippled through the pavement without a sound and vanished into the ground below, where the emotions of the city would be but a distant noise.

**The End**


End file.
